That Damn Antivan
by TheBattyWhiteCrow
Summary: The innocent Laeti is going out of her mind at Zevran's antics, who in turn, is going mad with Laeti's lack of supposed desire for him, unaware that both are driving one another insane, hilarity and akwardness ensues. As bonds are struck, Zevran soon finds himself not the only one desiring Laeti's attentions. Takes place before Shriek Tamlen, and contains in game dialogue.
1. Blonde Elven Nightmare

That damn Antivan was driving her insane. As a Dalish, sex never pressed on her mind, and temptation never presented itself. Now, here it was, striding along behind her with that confident smirk of his, blonde hair braided back, and dual daggers shining with a poison on his back. Laeti was going insane, she really was.

The Blight quite simply was no longer the first, or at all a thought in her mind. However much she tried to revive the topic, certain, un blight like thoughts kept wandering in. Pursing her lips, Laeti swung her pack off of her back, opening it with a hand, and rifling through the many contents to find a folded up and wrinkled map. Lifting it out, Laeti forced her eyes to actually pay attention to the trails and routes on the map, instead of fazing out and daydreaming about, well..

Oh damn. Now she was day dreaming, about her daydreams. That antivan was a curse on her mind, a plague on her thoughts. And it seemed that every time she could get her mind back on track, he went and said or did something like-

"Has anyone told you what marvelous eyes you possess, my dear?" Zevran practically purred. Laeti was quite glad she was in the lead, and thus, no one could see the spreading red on her cheeks. That. Everytime she got her mind on track, he said something like that and reminded her why he lingered in her thoughts. For a heart stopping moment, Laeti couldn't tell which of the females he was speaking to in the party. Reaching up a hand, she pulled her green hued hood lower over her eyes, her cheeks burning bright.

"Again with the flattery? Do you not tire from these pointless exercises?" Morrigan responded with an eye roll, not that Laeti could really tell, as she kept her eyes firmly on the path before her, and not on those behind. Ah, how Laeti had forgotten that Zevran fancied Morrigan. That was it, right? People flattered, and flirted with those they liked, and enjoyed the company of, thus, Zevran fancied Morrigan.

And from the sound of it, it was a rather immense passion.

"In Antiva, women are accustomed to being showered with the praise they deserve. Men should worship you at your feet as you pass." Zevran continued, no doubt wearing that smug grin of his that always drew her eye towards his fine, handsome features. Laeti covered her eyes with a hand, focusing on her breathing for a moment, calming the raging red on her cheeks. He wasn't even TALKING to her.

What was that damn antivan DOING to her?

"They don't find that incredibly annoying?" Morrigan practically purred back, no doubt imittating the tone in which Zevran had started the exchange. Laeti removed her hand, dropping it back by her side as she narrowed her focus back on the map. No witty humans, no distractions, and absolutly NO Zevran related thoughts were allowed any longer to linger.

"They are goddesses receiving their subjects, just as you should be. Whatever would be annoying about that?" Zevran continued easily, the words coming slick and smooth. Laeti gave up, she really did, lowering the map with an exasperated sigh.

Damn those Antivans.

"I have no wish to be placed upon a pedestal." Morrigan replied quickly, Laeti had to respect a certain degree the will power and ability of keeping her head that Morrigan had within her. More then a certain degree, in fact. She herself was feeling rather weak at the knees..

"But you deserve no less. You should be admired by painters, copied by sculptors, exalted by poets! Surely you know that yours is a beauty so exotic it- it would turn the eye of the Maker himself!" Zevran continued, his tone persuasive, and drawing on in that delicious accent- er.. Exotic accent of his that she had never heard before meeting that damn antivan.

"Well, I suppose I..." Morrigan mumbled, unsure but flattered. Well, Laeti HAD respected her willpower and ability of keeping her head around Zevran. She supposed that Morrigan got points for holding out that long. Maker knew that she wouldn't have. As a rule, when Zevran started his attention on herself, Laeti would turn tail, come up with some bumbling excuse, and go hunting.

She swore that he survived on it. Getting younger, and brighter ever time she did it.

"And there we go." He replied shortly, tone dripping with smugness and certain to no end that any woman he desired would have him upon a few slick words that he could so easily. Though, he did shoot a half look at the woman walking ahead of them, so strange, and so cold in that hood of hers that disguised her expressions and hid her beautiful frame from him. The woman who he couldn't have, the one that seemed immune to his charms.

It was driving him mad.

It was just his luck that the one woman in Thedas who held his heart didn't desire him in the slightest. Well, perhaps that was why she held it. Little teasing minx, he thought to himself, watching Laeti's back a moment longer/

"By the Maker! You were right! You win, I guess.." Alistair stated in shock, Zevran smirked, snapping out of his thoughts and gazing at the chantry boy with a confident grin decorating his antivan features. How had he ever doubted him?

"Thank you, ser. I expect payment forthwith" Zevran remarked, shooting Alistair a particularly wide grin.

"I hate you all." Morrigan snapped, grumpy at being tricked, and no doubt imaging ten ways to be rid of the pesky antivan. None of which being, of course, pleasant.

Laeti rubbed the back of her head with a slender hand, maybe she had been wrong about that whole, Zevran loves Morrigan thing. It seemed that playing heartbreaker was simply a game to him. That people were simply toys.

The Dalish pulled her hood down lower, lightly pulling her lip between her teeth and nipping it in thought.

He broke hearts, and stole lives faster, and without a care then Laeti could even imagine. She was nothing special, least of all to him. No matter what he said or claimed.

But, it was nice to daydream.


	2. Maddening Little Dalish

The Dalish woman was just about ready to give up on it all, in whatever sense of the word that meant. She had tried many times to order Zevran to stay at camp while the groups branched, not for strategic means, perhaps, but to keep her own sanity intact. So, perhaps that was a strategic move on her part, seeing as she had to be to a certain degree, sane enough not to charge the dark spawn with a thorny rose as a weapon.

He would simply tell her no. In absolutely no uncertain terms, that he would not, in fact, linger around camp with the others rather then be in her immediate party when they broke away. Zevran was, well, a strange man. He so reminded her that the woman, while being a reluctant leader, was not, in fact, HIS leader. She owned his oath, his loyalty for the moment, but he seemed to strive to show that he was not going to do whatever she asked, simply because she asked it if he happened to disagree with it.

Beyond that, she suspected that he wanted to drive her mad.

It was, strange to say, that it was perhaps, nice, in a sense.

She had never wanted to be the leader, and found herself to be rather terrible at it. Getting the group lost on occasion, having close calls in battle where others would be in danger, because she had organized the battle in an incorrect manner. In truth, those were the worst. No one had gotten terribly injured, no one had died by her fault, but it didn't help her conscience in the slightest to know this simple fact to be true. To know that her actions held weight now, to know that she held the lives of others, of thousands, in her hands.

Well, it was a terrible burden. But, to be able to make the impact she had always longed to, to have her word be taken, and heeded, well, it came in handy. Excepting, of course, that damn Antivan.

He was one she didn't have to lead. One who would watch her back in that sense, even IF chances were that he was merely waiting for the prime opportunity to stab a poisoned dagger in it.

That damn Antivan was interrupting her thoughts AGAIN, Laeti thought with a sour expression, around him, she was going mad with desire, and he refused to leave her company, and so, she had decided to step away from the group once more, under the excuse that she was going hunting.

The Dalish elf, for once, felt rather at home, deep in the Brecilian forest, intricately carved bow in her hands feeling the sweet wood in her hands, pushing at her palms and artfully pulled back in her fingers. An arrow was notched, though the tip was dark with blood of other kills, it almost seemed, in the setting sunlight's rays slipping through the bright leaves, that she was home.

She could almost forget how the world was so cruel here. Could almost feel Tamlen beside her, teasing her, or prowling silently for the next game already in his sights. The world outside her haven was both terrible and beautiful at the same time. A mad tangle of awe and disgust laid before her eyes out from behind the familiar shades and colors of the protective trees.

Small game would no longer do any good for her large party, who, in their turns, did scavenging, hunting, and foraging to supplement the meals, though, Alistair seemed to have a knack to find the poisonous herbs, berries, mushrooms, and many, many other means in which one could consume anything toxic and deadly.

Needless to say, he was no longer allowed to scavenge.

Laeti had been tracking a rather large elk for the past hour, her silent feet falling beside its light tracks with such ease, automatically, evading any leaves to rustle, twigs to snap. Crouching down evenly, her bow was pulled back, the string to her pointed ear, an arrow notched and carefully taking aim. A slow breath filled her lungs, and she squared her shoulders, fingers twitching to loosen the string

"-If you want to bed me, you have only to ask." Zevran said, his voice carrying, the tone sending a shiver down her neck. Her fingers fell from the string, the arrow flying through the air faster then she had intended, impaling a tree beside the elk's flank with a solid thunk. The noise startling the large animal, and as such it bolted from the underbrush and through the camp that Laeti had so accidentally prowled so close to. Knocking aside tents, and stomping a block of cheese by the campfire with a heavy dirt clad hoof (much to the dismay of Alistair), it disappeared into the underbrush at the edge of the camp once more

Zevran stood beside Oghren, but unlike the others who followed the elk with their attentions, no, instead he drew his gaze towards the direction that the elk had run out of. His hands falling to his weapons, while he kept his head towards the smelly dwarf, only allowing his eyes to twitch in the direction of whatever had startled the elk.

He didn't intend to tip off an ambush.

Expecting, of course, assassins, mercenaries, or perhaps a predator of some sort, Zevran felt a grin spill onto his features. Laeti, her hood off her long red hair, was crouched behind a fallen log, an arrow impaled into a tree knot deeply. The little Dalish elf, ears down and red with shock and embarrassment, not knowing she was being watched, gave a groan and slumped forwards, face palming into the fallen log.

Zevran's grin grew wider, and his shoulders shook with how hard he was trying to not laugh. Oh, damn it, what was that little Dalish DOING to him? Zevran, knowing that no threats were striding through the forested area, directed his attention back to the smelly, drunk dwarf beside him that he had been addressing. Cracking a joke as Oghren had tried to start up idle chit chat.

"What?!" The dwarf sputtered, red in the face, and not, for once, because of the severe amount of alcohol he always consumed. "Draw your weapon and say that again!" He demanded, spittle gathering around his mouth.

Zevran gave a hearty laugh, though, mostly not aimed at the dwarf but rather the little Dalish hiding, as if to keep him from noticing her. Though, he'd play along, at least for the time being. It was, well, rather fun to see that all that was needed for the little Dalish to miss her score, was merely a few words on his part.

This little Dalish wasn't as immune to his charms, as it would seem.

"I jest, my foul-smelling friend. You are only slightly more attractive to me than a slime-filled pool of swamp water." Zevran promised, being completely truthful on the subject, as the very thought had him nauseated.

Ugh. The thought of the thought had the same effect.

Oghren gave a grunt, taking out a flask and taking a long drink of the disgusting swill that he always had upon him. "Better be." He belched.

"You have my oath." Zevran swore, his eyes falling back to where Laeti had hidden herself, planning, perhaps, to sneak up on her, and actually happen to address her with the flirt that had managed to make the Dalish elf miss her target.

Perhaps it wasn't a lost cause after all.

Sadly, the woman was gone from the area, having slipped back into the forest she so hailed from. Still, he thought with a smirk, leaning against a tree, idly sharpening one of his dual blades. She'd have to come back to camp sometime.

"Bloody Antivans." Oghren huffed, walking towards the heart of camp, stumbling every so often.

Oh, you have no idea. Laeti thought silently, her back on the opposite side of the same tree as Zevran.

You have no idea.


	3. Madness Of Two Sorts

The fire crackled and waved ever so slightly in the gentle breeze that Laeti barely felt upon her skin. Her green hued cloak was around her in heavy folds, the hood off of her red hair and down her back, rustling every so often as she moved. The Dalish was a marvelous thing, though she never gave her appearance much thought, the blonde elf across the camp certainly did.

Zevran didn't even have to look up from the blade in his hands to know that her sparkling pale blue eyes would shine with the haze of the fire she always so expertly controlled and tamed. His gaze didn't have to leave the dual sword in his hands to know that her red hair curled so deliciously down her back, begging the eye to follow where it led. At least, it begged HIS eyes to rest on her waist. She was smaller then him, tempting that mind of his to wonder what it would be like to hold her body against his, resting his chin on the top of her head.

She was a rather cute little thing. He had long ago come to realize that she always flushed so easily, and so he often made a game of making that pale, beautiful face of hers grow red at the cheeks. No, he didn't even have to turn his head in the slightest to know what she looked like, to know what expression would decorate her find features, for, he had so many times noted every detail that her cloak would allow him and so often found his gaze wandering to find hers.

No, he didn't have to look up from what he was doing, the blade loose in his finger tips, the fire crackling beside his toes.

But he always did.

Reaching back, he set the dual blade back upon his back, striding over to the Grey Warden around the fire, lightly trailing a hand on her slender shoulders. What a delicate little thing she was! But, oh, he had seen on more then one occasion (and been on the receiving end) of the little dalish when she was in battle.

Looks could be decieving, as it would seem.

"You look so tired, my dear, it's all this constant walking and fighting." He said, in a lightly scolding tone, lightly clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth with a disapproving 'tut tut' sound. "I think I know what you need." He grinned watching the little Dalish at first shudder at his touch, then turn around, her red hair falling into her lap.

"A horse?" Laeti furrowed her brow, trying to solve this question. Was he mocking her? AGAIN? Still, she pulled her cloak around her with more tightness, trying very hard to hide the fact that he had given her goosebumps by merely trailing a finger on her shoulder blades as he strode up to her. Er, ahem. She thought, mentally clearing her mind of all of it's Zevran related shinanigans with a big mental boot.

The question would no doubt be so much easier to keep a clear head, and answer if he just didn't have that lovely accent of his..

It was just her luck.

She blamed the Antivans.

She blamed them all.

"A little late for that, I should think." Zevran practically purred (as, she found he often did when he thought he was getting his way) "My thought is this, we retire to your tent-" Laeti blinked, her eyes growing a bit wider and her jaw dropped a solid inch in a bit of shock.

Her.. tent?

"And I show you the type of massage skills that one only learns from growing up in an Antivan whorehouse." Zevran finished, grinning smugly at the expression on her face. Surely, even SHE couldn't misunderstand THAT?

Ah, Laeti thought, her shoulders slumping as the tension left her body, though, she cringed slightly at the sore movement of her muscles, she could use a massage. Laeti supposed that she was simply being a sex obsessed thing, seeing offers where there were none, she was merely paranoid to the subject because of how tempting Zevran always was.

Besides that, she had honestly never been seduced before.

Though, she silently wondered what a whore house was (the dalish didn't have one, you see) she supposed that question would have to be aimed at another, for Zevran seemed just the type to laugh so hard the darkspawn from all over Fereldon would hear.

"I think you're right." Laeti nodded, much to the group's shock and surprise, as there was very little privacy in the middle of camp, as one might imagine. Each, in turn, jumped, to some degree, excepting, of course, Sten and Shale, who remained completely still and ill affected. Drawing their attention to the scene slightly, looks of surprise and perhaps jealousy seemed to rise in each face, all imagining that Laeti had just knowingly accepted what they so obviously saw as a seduction.

Only a few knew better, Morrigan, Alistair, Sten and Bumu being her first companions, knew the little Dalish to be far more innocent then some seemed to be lead to believe. Bumu, being a mabari, was unable to voice such indications, however. Alistair, being rather jealous at the time, couldn't find the words in the slightest. Sten, being a qunari, saw no need, as Zevran would soon learn. Morrigan held her tongue merely for amusment's sake, it was no secret that she didn't particularly enjoy that damn antivan's presence, and it seemed just the thing to have him be told off by the little Dalish were he to try anything.

"Now, if it were to go beyond simply a massage?" Zevran asked, but quite certain that there was no way anyone could have mistaken his very clear offer. "Say, to without a doubt, help you get to sleep?" Zevran pressed, desiring to be absolutly certain she knew what he meant, and not, of course, get his hopes up for nothing.

It was strange how appealing the idea was to him. Not just on a physical level like many of his marks, and his past. Oh, what a confusing mess she made him. Clearly, he wasn't getting bedded enough to obsess over such a little Dalish.

"I don't see why not." Laeti remarked, wondering just what he meant for a moment.

For a moment it almost sounded like an offer to have sex with her..

Bah, it must simply be her head playing tricks on her once again.

Zevran was less then impressed, he had received far more.. Ecstatic responses for such a well made offer. But, it was an acceptance none the less, something, that strangely, rather elated the elf.

Yes, he definatly needed to be bedded more often.

Seeing that the little Dalish was content to stay by the fire, watching the flickering flames for a time longer, Zevran made a show to walk to her tent, holding open the tent's opening for her with a deliberate look. Laeti blinked out of her daydream (whatever it was she was daydreaming of) and strode over, ducking inside the tent without a word.

It was rather strange how the leader rather listened to him. Something that no doubt required more thought on the subject, he supposed. She had, of course, in the past told him that she had never wanted to be a leader, so, having someone take over, even for the night might well be pleasing for her, he imagined.

Still, it took him QUITE some time to convince her to remove her armor.

"If you don't undress, my dear, how EVER will we get to more pleasurable activities?" Zevran rolled his eyes, and Laeti knew for certain that one was just him teasing her for her modesty. Because, well, she had a lot of it. Not as a rule, of course, it wasn't a Dalish trait, but with him, she felt a certain, amazing amount of modesty was required on her part, in order to keep herself from, well, indulging in more pleasurable activities, as he so put it.

"Does everything have to come to bedding someone for you, Zevran?" Laeti rolled her eyes lightly, though she did start on removing her armor. Dreadfully to SLOW for Zevran's liking, but when he came to assist, she gave him such a look that did not appear natural with all of it's menace on her fine features.

"I'm in a small tent with a beautiful woman undressing, what else could be on my mind, do you imagine?" Zevran laughed back, looking over to see that the Dalish was showing as much skin as he was apparently going to get, as she still was in her small clothes, a light shirt, and the pants she wore to bed apparently.

Zevran supposed it was a game she wanted to play..

Laeti wondered why he was staring at her as if he was willing the fabric to vaporize..

When she was convinced to lie on her stomach, her hands on top of one another and beneath her chin, Zevran was very much surprised to see how startled she got at the first glance of touch on her back. Blinking, he pulled back for a moment, it was almost like she was terrified of him!

Laeti was having a VERY, VERY hard time keeping herself in check, those daydreams trying to assert themselves once more, and his light touch on her back was not helping at all. All she seemed to want to do was get up, turn around and take what she so wanted.

He so OBVIOUSLY had offered it in the past..

"Ha! My dear warden, you jump as if you've never had a massage before!" Zevran laughed, lying his hand flat on her shoulder, and receiving the same reaction. Laeti glanced back, turning her neck to do so, "Because I haven't."

Oh, she hadn't caught his innuendo on that one. Well, he could have a bit of fun on that, naturally "No? Never? Not even a small one? Not once? I am shocked, warden. That is a crime." Laeti laughed lightly, and Zevran, quite decided that he liked the sound, perhaps he would go out of his way to get her to make such a likable noise on a later date, but for the moment, perhaps not.

It took some time before the skin beneath his fingers didn't flinch or jump, and instead relaxed to his touch. Taking that, as perhaps his que, Zevran made sure to ease out all the aches and pains in her muscles (rather enjoying the grateful Laeti's responses) before leaning over her, his hands on either sides of her shoulders. Finally, FINALLY, the little Dalish wanted him!

Ah, it was quite an original feeling indeed. And he desired to waste absolutly no more time on the nonsense that was their daily lives inside and outside of camp. Now it made sense, she had been flustered by him all this time because she rather liked him, in more then a friendship sense of the word, as one could imagine. Sending an elk through camp, finding excuses to leave when he tried to seduce her, and tripping on the hem of her cloak when he happened to flirt with her companions (As if she thought he didn't notice)

Ah, my little dalish, why didn't you just tell me from the start? Must you make it all so complicated constantly? He thought to himself, kissing down her neck for a moment (and rather liking the taste, you see) before there was a flurry of movement.

The effectivness of Laeti to kick an assassin out of her tent in such short time had him stumbling outside the still recovering tent flap, though, luckily most of the camp had gone to their own tents to retire, saving, of course, one qunari, who looked at him almost amusedly before returning his attention back to his beloved blade.

"It would seem your attempt has failed, elf." Zevran rubbed his back, knowing for certain there would be a lovely looking foot shaped bruise there. "Really? I had not noticed." He replied dryly, shooting a look back at the tent. She made no sense. At all.

Oh, that damn Fereldon woman!


	4. Insanity's Companion

Blades flashed in the waning light, the sun settling behind the frozen mountains at their backs, the cold air settling in around the entire party as they distributed the work around camp, the members barely glancing up at the two elven figures locked in combat just paces away, their frames turning dark from the setting sun. The red haired woman ducked, her hood on her back (for, you see, it ruined her vision so terribly..) her cloak moving around her animatedly as she struck forwards, blocking and parrying the ordered and far more experianced moves of the Antivan before her.

She knew he was going easy on her, which frustrated her to no end, needless to say. It had seemed like such a long time ago that she had convinced him to help her to learn close combat, guilty with how those who travelled with her became more and more injured at her fault. Merely because she stood as a primarily long distance fighter, with a bow in her hand, and an arrow or two notched beneath her finger tips, she laid waste to all that opposed her, given a certain amount of space.

Sadly, as the ambush numbers grew, she found it harder and harder to find the time, space, and room to navigate, even with her ability to dodge, duck and weave through the battle field. As such, others were often under the impression that a long ranged based woman, despite the fact that she had proven herself adept at battle in the past, required protection.

Laeti was tired of being seen as a weakling.

Exhausted of having those around her fall to blades due to trying to assist her in battle. She was the weakest of the group in close combat. She was holding the group back, endangering the entire party in battle. And thus, she had convinced (a rather eager, she had noticed) Zevran to train her in close combat with the only pair of weaponry she had in her inventory at the time they had started.

Duel daggers flashed, the shadows of the setting sun played upon the dark blades as they parried and blocked the larger ones of Zevran. At first, he had her simply learning how to stand (which, she rather disliked, finding it impossible to concentrate in the slightest with his hands just barely trailing on her hip to tell her how to stand for a battle) and eventually his lessons wound together into a sparring match that left her breathless, to exhausted from her efforts to even rise from where she set herself down with a heavy groan.

And that was him going EASY on her!

But, that was for when the spar was over, when she was to tired to rise. This was now! With electricity running down her arms and fire running through her muscles as she moved, no, now was not the time to think about what laid before her in time. Even when Zevran was going easy on her, it still required all of her attentions to keep up with his movements.

"I don't understand. You look like a woman." Sten stated, in the common way that he always did, standing to the side stifly, his beloved sword upon his back as he eyed the dueling elves. Laeti glanced over, at Sten for a brief moment, purely out of habit.

Her opponent was losing his patience with the little Dalish, it seemed that no matter how he taught her to never take her eye off the opponent, she was still distracted when other's spoke, or when Alistair happened to do something ridiculous around camp. Just recently he had taken to not so subtly hiding the fact that he couldn't take his eyes off the duelling pair. And he wasn't getting a crush on HIM, Zevran was certain.

Sighing, Zevran snuck a foot out, hooking behind her heel and with a quick movement pulled her foot out from under her, leaving her on her back with a startled gasp. "What? I'm a woman!? Well, this is news to me! Damn it Sten, that explains so much! Why did you sit on this information for so long?!" Laeti mocked shock, breathing hard already as she stood up once more, taking up the right stance before engaging once more in the flash of blades.

"I just, I can't believe this. Imagine that! I always suspected.." Laeti pursed her lips, catching one of Zevran's blades in a block. Giving a smug 'Ha HA' Laeti grinned wide at Zevran. Who, merely raised an eyebrow, nodding his head downwards, to which he held his second blade against her stomach, proving the point quite vivedly that she would have been dead by then even with her efforts.

That damn Antivan.

"I've told you many times, my dear, never to turn your attention from your opponent." Zevran scolded lightly, shaking his head gently and removing the blade, having been certain to not harm her in their sparring, if, of course, it was even called that, as she, while being a quick learner, was no where near the level of skill in close combat as he was.

Still, it was a nice excuse to hold her close when the opportunity arose.

Laeti scrunched up her nose at him, sticking out her tongue. Laughing hard, Zevran threw his head back. Oh, she was to much! His laughter dying down after a time, he glanced back at her, smiling fondly at her turned back.

"In all seriousness, Sten. Are you trying to flirt with me? You can't have just noticed that I'm a woman." Laeti pointed out, lowering her weapons, assuming that their spar match was finished. Zevran rolled his eyes, though worry seemed to sneak it's way into his features.

She wouldn't be able to stand long in a close combat fight.

He could lose her.

Firmly, he decided that he would remain by her side during battle, like always, but would strive, and fight with more of a determination to keep those that intended her harm out of arm's reach. They wouldn't take her from him.

Smiling to himself, he walked up from behind Laeti, her body against his ever so slightly as he purred in her ear, "I certainly noticed before now, if you want my opinion, my dear."

Laeti froze, feeling her mind go slow, and stunned, just for a moment. Before a heavy flood of Zevran approved thoughts and ideas poured in, all insisting on action, and all insisting one being noted. Swallowing, she demonstrated an IMMENSE level of mental and self discipline by slipping out of his disappointed grip, ignoring that seductive, smug grin on his face. To flustered for words to say to him in response, her hands shook at her sides, and she quickly folding them into one another, lest he notice.

"'Flirting?'" Sten tried the new word, it felt thick and dumb on his tongue as he scoured his knowledge for anything of it's like. "I don't know this word. Speak the common tongue." Sten stated, surely this elf could stay to her own tongue, and not make up such nonsensical words as 'Flirting'

"You are a grey warden." Sten continued, his voice firm, as there was no debate on this. Despite the fact that he so often told her she didn't act like a proper one, that her quest was doomed for failure, and those she lead would be lead into disaster and ruin. Laeti, in a sense, felt a half smile spread on her features.

She was a grey warden.

She just wasn't the usual kind.

"So it follows you can't be a woman." Sten concluded, gesturing to Laeti with a hand. Laeti rubbed the back of her head, her red hair tangling in her fingers "That doesn't make any sense, Sten." She concluded, mind wondering just what he meant. She had never had an issue with others believing that she couldn't do something because she was a woman. The Dalish had never claimed she could never hunt because of her gender, and most of her travels through Fereldon had lead to others more often noting her race rather then her gender.

"So you understand my confusion, then." Sten, who, being a man of few words, believed that the woman knew the confusing situation at hand. In truth, he was making Laeti quite dizzy. "Wait, hold on, are you saying I can't be a woman?" Laeti frowned, brow furrowed "Because that would be such a terrible disappointment, you see.."

"Women are priests, artisans, shopkeepers or farmers. They don't fight." Sten stated it clearly, as if that would help. "That's not a universal truth, my clan had no problems with women fighting. Not in the slightest. So while it may be true for your culture, perhaps not for all cultures" Laeti replied, trying to find the right words to say in the madness that was her mind.

Damn that Antivan.. Ruining her thoughts..

"Why would women ever wish to be men? That makes no sense." Sten looked more confused (internally. Deep. Deep down inside.) then before speaking to the elf, and felt far more baffled and lost on the subject then before. "I never claimed that they wanted to be men. No woman would. They simply desire to fight. Well, some, at least. I'm sure there are a few women who like to be priests, artisans, shopkeepers, farmers or mothers.." Laeti remarked back, despite the fact that many people thought that speaking to Sten was like speaking to a wall, or a water wheel, in Zevran's opinion, she found him easy to speak to.

For the most part, at least. It seemed that almost every time she thought she was getting the hang of interacting with him, he would bring her around in circles, and for a slight moment, she could have sworn in those times that she saw amusement flash in those steely eyes of his.

Like it was just a bit of a game. Just a bit of a joke.

Zevran, having been cut out of the conversation glanced over to the fire pit, and low and behold, sitting beside that block of cheese was the Chantry Boy Alistair, unable to drag his eyes off of the lovely little Dalish beside Zevran. No doubt despising him for having been the one she had asked to teach her to fight.

Well, to bad Chantry Boy, she selected myself for a reason. But if I had my way, it'd be more then just a practice, wouldn't you just hate that, Alistair? Zevran thought, perhaps a bit maliciously, how strange, he'd never been very protective of women he was even slightly interested in. Mostly because he didn't get interested, it was sex, or a mark, most times a bit of both, and then it was done, over.

Simple. Easy.

"Do they also wish to live on the moon? That's as attainable." To this, Laeti raised an eyebrow in challenge.

Zevran wasn't sure what he'd missed, but hearing a heavy crash beside him, the Antivan quickly drew his attention back to the qunari and the elf, who, in the short time his eyes had wandered from her, had the qunari on his back, with her sitting cross legged on his stomach, eyes cheerful, yet challenging.

The qunari's blade was firmly out of reach, and even Zevran could tell he was hiding surprise from his features.

Zevran laughed hard, not being able to recall the last time he had laughed so hard, tears starting up on his cheeks. Laeti watched him curiously, ears downwards and wide eyed at his response, which, of course, only made him laugh harder.

"Parshara, get off." Sten growled, to which the elf hopped off, even handing him his beloved blade back. Taking it with a forcefull hand, Sten was less then amused with the little Dalish. "I don't know what to make of you. Perhaps this is a quality of Grey Wardens I had not heard about." Sten chose to ignore the still cackling elf to his side, eyes on Laeti and speaking not just of her astounding ability to tackle, pin and disarm a qunari in less then a moment but also of her strangeness of her gender and apparent desire to be a man.

"A person is born: qunari, or human, or elven, or dwarf. He doesn't choose that. The size of his hands, whether he is clever or foolish, the land he comes from, the color of his hair: These are all beyond his control. We do not choose, we simply are." Sten elaborated, much to Laeti's interest, for her ears perked and she gave him her undivided attention.

"All that is physical. A person decides who they are emotionally, morally, religiously, all that is their own control." Laeti pointed out, to which Sten contemplated her argument, though his tone was certain and strong, he wondered aloud, "Can they?" naturally, his tone was heavy with doubt.

"We'll see." He gave her a deliberate look, ah, this Warden, she made a good ally, even if she was childish and strange.

Though, Sten was still annoyed at the antics of Laeti and her Qunari pinning, he decided to perhaps forgive her for the moment when she pressed several cookies into his hand indescritely as the sat by the fire that night.

She was certainly a strange Grey Warden.


	5. We Do Everything As A Pair

They were going to leave him behind.

Or rather, he thought groggily, trying to fight down the spreading panic running through his mind that burned with fever, she was going to leave him behind. From what he'd overheard from the plans Laeti made with the rest of the group outside the tent he resided inside, at least. Though he hadn't been awake enough to stir, at the time he was more then concious enough to overhear such alarming things. His skin was hot with the illness that had settled beneath it, spreading from the deep slashes on his stomach that so cleanly slit through flesh and skin. Zevran groaned slightly, his hands at his sides finding the dirt of the ground to keep his world from rocking, and with a heavy effort he pushed himself to sit up.

Or rather, he tried to.

Laeti put a hand on his shoulder, and eased him back down gently, his skin hot beneath her finger tips. "For a Crow, you're pretty dumb." She stated, in that lovely tone of hers, still, it had the former crow cringing at the sound echoing through his aching head. The bed roll beneath him shifting as his weight did. Strangely, the world seemed to rock a bit before settling, slipping out of it's blurry haze, Zevran shook his head slightly, hiding a cringe as the roaring pain returned even from the small movement.

"Ah, now, what do you know about Crows, my dear? As for my intellect, I assure you, I am far from dumb, as you can tell, yes?" Zevran gave a confident sort of grin, looking up at the woman sitting beside him appreciatively. Worry seemed to color her features, though she fought to hide it from her features, it seemed painfully obvious to him.

Zevran supposed he was getting better at reading the little Dalish's emotions on her face. Throughout the time that he had known her, the ex assassin was the only one to be able to tell her true emotions from the ones she simply threw on her expressions. She was really quite good at hiding her thoughts from others, and without an experianced eye, it was no surprise that others fell for the facades that she threw on so simply.

He doubted that Laeti even meant to, she had so many, she was no doubt drowning out her own emotions with the temperary, fake ones.

Laeti couldn't stand to see him like this, to see him injured, the bandages around his stomach stained a deep red. That smirky, ever confident grin of his turning up in the corners with pain. It didn't help to know that it was for herself that he had managed to injure himself so. She couldn't stand it, she couldn't stay to see it, couldn't stand to have the figure linger in her vision.

Yet, here she sat, unable to bring herself to leave his side even after all the companions ghosted in and out of the tent, insisting that he would be fine, that he simply needed some rest, and that camp was not to move for the next week so Wynne had the time to heal the injured man.

Laeti flinched to recall just what had happened. It had been madness, as all battles were these days, ambushed by mercenaries that came in a dozen in number against the smaller, better equipped scouting group that was her own. At the time, she'd had Zevran by her side, as he so often insisted upon, his weapons flashing in the bright sunlight with the speed he had noted the actions and intent of the mercenaries that had leapt upon them.

Sten had been walking behind them, her mabari, Bumu at his side as he strode with such strong confidence that he seemed to have gained ever since she had tracked and located his sword. She hadn't realised just how incomplete the qunari was without his sword, it was impressive to invest oneself so deeply in weaponry, in a single item.

Items didn't get hurt. Not like the man before her crossed legs that ached from lack of movement, feeling like stone. Items didn't break your heart, like the blonde looking up at her in such a way that she forced herself with an exhausted will to recall just how she was one of many for him. Something for him to lust for, nothing more.

The fight hadn't been a challenge, it shouldn't have gone wrong. Her group was more well equipped. Battle hardened. Smarter. Faster. More prepared.

It shouldn't have gone wrong.

But it did.

Laeti shook her head, her red hair falling before her misty blue eyes, so tired that she didn't even push the long strands back as the ends fell into her lap. But she forced a smile upon her features, one that the Antivan quite decided he despised.

After all, what impression would he get if he knew that she couldn't sleep, couldn't leave his side when he was injured? He would imagine her a small puppy for his entertainment, berate her for envisioning love where it was never going to even hold the slightest chance.

He'd tried to kill her.

He'd mocked her.

She loved him anyway.

The Antivan, alternatively, felt guilt run through his aching mind, reaching out a hand, he tucked those lovely red strands of hair behind her sharply pointed ear gently. His eyes never leaving hers as he did so, his finger tips brushing her skin. Electricity seemed to spark from the small touch, and he refused to pull away, letting his hand drop to stroke her cheek softly, Zevran propped himself up on his other arm's elbow.

As a crow, he'd gotten used to hiding pain, as well as ignoring it's presence. Besides, it would take more then a blade to his stomach to keep him from his little Dalish. While she seemed surprised for a moment, her expression softened to display the worry he so saw.

"Oh, my dear, so you DO care.." He said jokingly, a smirk finding it's way onto his features.

He FELT the moment get ruined.

Laeti pulled back, slipping out of his fingertips, picking up her bow and stepped around the body of the Antivan. Eyes cold and directed out the tent flap instead of at him, as if avoiding him "No more then I should. You were harmed on my watch, for my fault, on my protection. I simply wanted to see if you'd survive." She remarked, one foot outside the tent already.

Damn she moved fast!

"I've survived worse, I assure you." Zevran gave a confident smile, nearly egging her on to leave him in peace. He didn't want her temptation before his aching eyes, he didn't want the damnable emotions she stirred up in him so easily. He didn't want to deal with the confusion that was her mind when she was there. With a tired groan, he laid back, closing his eyes for a moment and ignoring all thoughts that involved that little dalish.

The plan that was decided, apparently, was for Alistair and Laeti to branch off from the larger group in order to find the ruins of Ostagar while the rest of the group remained, and evidently, he was not to accompany her under any circumstances.

He was fine with that. Zevran really was. Furious at himself for the time being at having allowed himself to get attached to someone who didn't desire his company, for getting attached to anyone at all, he directed some of his anger at Laeti in his thoughts spitefully. But, it didn't last long, none of the anger he felt towards her did. And when she had left camp with that Chantry Boy, all he could do was pray to whoever was listening, that she would be alright. A feeling of dark hollowness settling just beneath the skin as he waited with deep unease as the days wore on.

He couldn't stand the thought of losing her.

He couldn't lose her.

Zevran glared, having fully recovered from the injury (and, receiving a rather nice scar across the torso for his troubles) he was an intimidating sight. His blonde hair had been painstakingly pulled back in braids, as always. Dual blades laid on his back, atop of light armor that allowed the rogue his swift movements.

Having a keen eye, it had been him that had seen the Templar approaching with a woman on his back, carrying her as though she was nothing more then a corpse upon his back, her arms loosely hanging from his neck, and her legs held up by the Chantry Boy.

His heart had stopped, and he would have traded anything for that cloaked figure to not be his little Dalish. But, as a gust of wind knocked her hood down, her sparkling red hair glinted with wet blood as it settled down her back.

There was no denying it.

He couldn't breathe. It was still a mad blur what had transpired next, his footsteps pounding on the ground to the idotic templar. She was dead. She was gone.

That damn Templar couldn't even protect her! He hadn't even TRIED, not a scratch decorated his skin as sweat decorated his forehead, as if she were some heavy BURDEN for him to carry!

She wasn't coming back.

The cold realisation hit, shaking him with the shock, and the despair the welled up.

He forced his anger down, surprised for a moment on how the thought seemed to shake him to the core. No, he'd never been one to form such attachments.

Why was he so protective of the little Dalish now? She was gone, it was clear that Alistair would have done his best to protect his fellow Grey Warden, the mission having gone wrong, he had perhaps received injuries as she did, but the stubborn Dalish always had an ability to put herself second to others.

That was why he was unarmed, she'd given him their last potion.

The exhausted Templar was a fit man, for wearing such a heavy suit at all times, but the same weight that had benefitted his muscles had added to the weight, bringing the man to exhaustion at the new weight of the Dalish. Zevran took Laeti off Alistair, holding her in his arms for a moment, calling sharply for Wynne as he ducked inside a random tent, it just so happening to be his he laid the woman down on the bedroll.

She stirred slightly.

He could breath.

That was the only feeling that seemed to envelop him. Relief. It was as if he could simply breath, the pounding in his ears of his heart disappeared at the sound of her breath. Color seemed to reenter his vision, and with a relieved sigh, he had sunk to his knees beside her, watching as Wynne had done her damnest to heal the little Dalish before informing him that she would need to recover like him,

But she was to be fine.

Zevran glared at the reflection on his blade, the blade lying in his lap as his legs fell numb beneath him by her side.

Cursing himself.

For all those that returned to the tent, they found the elf to be sarcastic, and witty, as always, though he refused to leave the bedside of the small Dalish.

Simply.. returning the favor, he reasoned, his gaze falling to her injured body for a moment, the stone sharpening the blade just once more in a sharp noise, the noise ringing through the tent for a soft moment before disappearing into the night.


	6. Luridly

"Zevran, can we speak about something?"

"Do I get to stare at you luridly while you do so?" Zevran countered, attention drawn to the red haired elf at his side who so deliciously dressed in loose clothings. The clothing choice was to keep her still healing wounds from being made worse by the stiffness of the armor, it was all perfectly sound reason, naturally. But, Zevran rather enjoyed the change for an entire different reason entirely.

The white loosely hanging fabric bunched around her lovely figure when the slightest breeze caught her just right, as it did now framing it for his eager eye. Pale bandages wound themselves around her flesh, mostly her back and in effect, covering her chest in their bindings. Had it not been the case, the many ripples in the fabric would have allowed him more then single glance at her beautiful form. The white fabric fell to her ankles in size, slitted up the side to her hip and moving with her natural adjustions of herself and her composure.

She had long since washed the blood of her skin, her red hair falling down her back in silken straightened strands which resettled every time her slender body shifted weight or position, catching his eye with the stunning brightness of the hue. The glow of the fire had died to a gentle glow as the embers burned, the slightly red hue stretching only a few paces from the fire pit, and the heat not even reaching the pair. But, it did wonders for the lighting on her slender silhoutte, something Zevran found himself rather appreciating.

It was so very early in the morning that none of the rest of the group were awake or even stirring in their own tents, nor did they intend to for many more hours. Zevran, having been woken from a nightmare, as he so often did, simply gave up on the idea of sleep for the rest of the night, and as the sun was already starting to rise anyway, had collected himself outside of his own tent. What Laeti was doing up already was beyond him, it was not as though she had a past as he did to dog him while he slept.

But, regardless of reason's sake, Laeti had already been outside, her dark silhoutte stretching delicatly over the soil of the camp at the rising sun, her back had been to him, and her wild red hair flickering in the gentle movement of the cold wind bristling up her back. How could he not approach such a beautiful thing?

"Mmh? Uhm, sure." Laeti waved a careless hand, wondering for a moment just what the word luridly meant, her gaze wandering to find something other then that damn Antivan to focus on, finding her heart pounding in her ears. How, how could she phrase it?

You're driving me mad with desire, wasn't easy to phrase, it would seem.

But there was no denying she desired to tell him, perhaps, that would take the heavy and burdensome load from her shoulders. Taking a breath, she drew her eye back to his, and leaned back a bit, startled and for a moment a bit creeped out at the expression that decorated his handsome features. Her thoughts lost in a tangle of alarm and confusion for the moment.

It looked like he was contentendly seeing through her clothes, and it was a rather uncomfortable fashion to herself the way his eyes seemed to stretch over her entire form in such a desired and appreciative fashion. Drinking in every detail, and with an expression of lustful desire on his features. With a heavy effort upon her part, Laeti forced herself to get her mind back on track.

She'd tell him. Today, now, this instant.

"About the incident in.." Laeti cleared her throat, her cheeks going red as his gaze seemed to undress her in his imagination, and seeming rather pleased with what he imaginarily saw. "in the tent, after.." She stumbled to find the right words, her ears folding downwards in her embaressment. "Ahem, will- will you stop that?"

"But I thought we had a deal, my dear!" Zevran mocked shock, "Or is it you do not desire me to answer when you finally do get around to asking your question, hmm? If you do not keep your side of the deal, what is to keep me from mine?" His sultry voice only deepened the spreading red, much to his own mischivious delight.

"Ah, well, no.. I didn't say that." Laeti fumbled for words, the courage that she had found deep within her after so long was long gone after a mere moment, leaving her empty and searching for the proper phrases to express herself. Damn it! She'd never had this problem before meeting this damn Antivan! Clearing her throat, Laeti (as casually as she could, you see) made an effort to cover up the essentials using her arms and hands, and shifted uneasily, feeling the bandages scrape against her still healing wounds upon her back as her feet slid ever so slightly backwards.

Zevran was having SUCH fun, he could hardly keep a flirty grin from spilling onto his features, spreading like wildfire.

She was so damn cute with that red spreading on her features. It was like adding a fine color to a white flower, a rose, in this case, perhaps. It simply enveloped her features, and defined her to be what she truly was without all the disguises she threw on herself so easily.

Mm, he judged that the hue on her cheeks was worth at least five points, at least in the game he had devised between himself and others of the party. The scores, you see, were for him only to personally know and judge.

Naturally, he was in the lead.

As if he'd let ALISTAIR win..

Laeti shifted her stance slightly, her foot slipping back ever so softly to touch the rope the supported one of the tents of their camp, the opening gaping at her back, it's pair beside it. Zevran noticed the action before she seemed to, and when he strode forwards to snatch her wrist and keep her from falling into the dark tent, and onto sleeping bodies inside, she backed up a half a pace in reflex.

The Dalish gave a soft gasp, falling on her back in the dim tent, the flap resetling from her movement, eveloping her in the dim light. Though, it was a comfort, knowing for certain from the lack of stence that it was not Oghren's tent. And the fact she was not dead, she could gather that it was not Sten or Morrigan's tent either. With any luck, she had fallen inside her own empty tent, or Zevran's, she was certain he wouldn't have minded. Silently, she closed her eyes, mouthing miserable curses as the pain buckled her mind completely, leaving her holding her breath to keep from shouting out aloud.

Oh! She wished those damned scratches of length on her back would just HEAL already this week was lasting a damnable LIFETIME!

The thud that had accompanied her falling into the powdery dry dirt seemed to ring through the small tent, and she heard a small breath catch to her side, so much for THAT idea, she thought sourly. Closing her eyes tightly, Laeti hoped dearly whoever it was wasn't going to wake up because, try as she might to persuade herself otherwise, she felt a presence at her side, breathing with such rythme it held her in a state of calm almost, though her heart beat loudly in her ears. Curiously, she opened one eye slowly, cringing in expectation of loud and abrasive declarations of hatred.

The dim lighting of the tent settled before her vision, her gaze sharpening to see a peacefully sleeping man beside her, his face only inches from hers, the spikey haired man sleeping upon his side. He hadn't slept in his heavy armor, trading it instead for a bare chest, and rough pants that hung off him slightly. The Templar blinked sleepily, opening his eyes with a glaze that signalled he was only half awake at the very most.

Scoffing, he turned over so his back was to her, mumbling beneath his breath. "Now I KNOW this one's a dream." His attractive voice droned on sleepily, before over come with a yawn, Alistair slipped back to sleep.

As if Laeti would ever wake up beside him.

But, it was a nice dream to have, Alistair supposed sleepily, eyes sliding shut at the soothing thought of perhaps having it again.

Laeti sat up slowly, cringing as her back rang with a fierce, roaring pain as she moved, even as slowly and as silkenly as she did. Silently, she slipped her palms into the dirt, pushing herself up, and on tiptoe, stepped around Alistair's spread body, and out of the tent, the tent flap settling behind her.

Zevran was guffawing, his face flushed with laughter as she reappeared, because, apparently, an elf could laugh so hard that he made no sound. Laeti rolled her eyes, and with the intention of revenge in mind, pushed his shoulder with a hand. The elf, drunk on laughter, stumbled over the supporting rope before falling inside the tent flap with a soft thud.

From the sound of the dwarven shouts of alarm and anger, it had been Oghren's tent.

And it was Laeti's turn to laugh.

Zevran snuck a glance to Laeti, walking beside her as they trecked down the dirt path, the road ahead clear, and the sun high above the small group. The four of them were scouting ahead for the larger, more cumbersome group behind them, bumbling along in the caravan and it's area closely. The scouting group had not been gone from the larger one long, Sten, Bumu, Laeti and himself being it's only occupents.

"You should know, my dear, that your CHARMING dwarven friend does not spent his time in his tent in pants." Zevran remarked, hoping to share his burning mental anguish with another who had caused it. Teasing her in tone, and casting a sidelong smirk at the red headed elf, who, merely turned her gaze slightly to him, a smirk casting on her own features.

"Neither does your templar friend." She purred back, equally seductive as him at his very best.

Of course, Zevran didn't really care about the tone. Freezing where he stood, he cocked his head to the side slightly, his ear more towards her as if he'd heard wrong and his expression hardened.

"What?" He questioned shortly, heart twisting, and voice sharp.

Was this a bit of jealousy he was detecting?


	7. Breathless

The chatter of the groggily woken up larger group was drawn to a slow close as attentions were directed elsewhere, more specifically, to the tent by the fire place. Laeti had always pitched her tent so close to the fireside, finding the soft glow to be a comfort on her restless nights, as they happened nigh daily. On that particular morning, however, she was not how she usually was, where she was awake and sitting by the embers of the fire before any of the others had even started to wake. Rather, she remained in her tent, the noise of such making it rather obvious, as light and spaced gasps filled the air with quiet persistance.

Morrigan rolled her eyes, not being the first to imagine that Laeti was in the middle of an intimate moment, and called out loudly to the closed tent flap "Blast and damnation! Keep it down in there!" her sarcastic voice called out, tinged in annoyance and colored with impatience. All of the group glanced to one another, finding only Zevran to be missing in their admist aside from Laeti.

For a long, tense moment, the gasping continued, paused, then continued once more as the group suspected Zevran was the fault. Interested in what Morrigan had said, Zevran strode out of his own tent, glancing at the various blushing and glaring members curiously. "Ooh, our warden has finally shed her childish innocence, yes?" Zevran laughed excitedly, glancing towards the closed flap of the tent, ears perked at the noises.

Laeti pushed aside the slit of fabric, unamused at her group's assumptions and sitting cross legged on the soil inside her tent. "I have the hiccups." the Dalish explained bluntly, a mentioned hiccup slipping from her lips in a quick gasp, rattling her red hair and making the little dalish jump ever so slightly.

The group spared a slow glance to one another, all thinking the same thing.

The game was on.

"Persistant ones, I take it?" Zevran pressed, challenge finding itself into his gaze. This would be interesting, but naturally, who but him would win? Laeti gave a short bitter laugh "Oh yes, I've been trying to get rid of them all morning!" She explained, a hiccup bouncing her small frame upwards for a moment. Groaning, she leaned forwards from sitting cross legged inside the tent, hiding her eyes in the palm of her hand, "It's getting really annoying, not just for me, I assume.." She complained lightly, stepping out of the tent and straightening upwards, still dressed in the loose white fabric that she so slept in to keep her back from the pain that even her light armor wracked her with.

"I'm going to the river to wash up, with any luck moving around will stop it. Sitting still sure hasn't." Laeti explained, striding down the path, not rightly minding that her feet were bare to the soil and her legs were chilled to the cold breeze. In truth, it felt like home to her, the wet soil between her toes and the leaves along the path rustling by her ear.

It felt like home.

It felt like freedom.

Just as soon as the little Dalish was out of earshot, the group debated among themselves the rules and winnings of the game to be played. The rules, naturally being that each member of the group got only one formal try, and that said try could only last five minutes at the very most. After that time, any of the members could invade and interrupt to steal the win.

The spoils of the game would be that the winner received ten sovereigns from each of the other members, as well as the ability to select any member they so chose to complete their laundry for the month. Some, however, took a bit more persuading, and it was decided that in the case of a Qunari, Golem, or Mabari taking the win, a handful of emerald cystals, bag of cookies, or bone were to be awarded respectfully.

By the time Laeti had started on her return to camp, the game was already under way.

Alistair, knowing only one way to cure persistant hiccups, took to slipping along the path she had strode down, and ducking behind the bark of a large outstretched tree, with it's green leaves hanging low to hide his larger form. Hearing Laeti's light footsteps stroke the dirt of the ground, Alistair gave a heavy roar, leaping around the tree to stand center fold in the path, landing before Laeti with arms outstretched.

Laeti yelped in shock, and without a thought socked Alistair in the face as hard as she could. The body dropping to the ground with a heavy thud and clinking of armor. Laeti guiltily looked down at the still form, giving a sheepish smile.

"Oops." She mumbled, brow creased, a hiccup escaping her lips.

When the Templar came to, the sight of a laughing elf greeted him, though Zevran did offer a hand to help Alistair up good naturedly. "If you had asked, I could have told you that she had done the same to me when we met. She has a good right hook for something so small, no?" Zevran grinned widly, very much resembling the cat that ate the canary.

Taking his hand, Alistair stood, rubbing his own cheek where the fist had connected. "We never speak of this again." Zevran laughed, clapping his hand on the templar's shoulder once in agreement, "agreed, it would be a shame for the others to know that the bastard prince of fereldon got knocked out by such a little dalish, yes?"

Laeti shook her hand as she stepped to camp, curious what the hell had just occurred, and simply shook her head, attributing it to perhaps simply being a Templar thing, or Alistair was goofing off to attempt to scare her. Taking a seat beside the dying fire, Laeti rolled some of the spare logs of dry firewood into the embers, leaning down she coaxed the flames to spread a new, task completed, she straightend upwards, glancing over to see the elder mage Wynne calmly take a seat beside the red head.

Wynne, having had a few cases of persistant hiccups in her past, led Laeti through breathing excersises designed to calm the cause of the hiccups. Just as the red headed elf seemed to slow in the spaced gasps of breath, five minutes had passed, leaving her formal attempt to be interupted by any of the group. In the case, it was Zevran, who, desiring to keep the game going for some time longer, leaned down, his lips by Laeti's ear as he spoke softly and breathily.

"How are those hiccups? Still.. Persistant, I take it?"

Laeti grew a deep red, the hiccups returning with a vengence as she stammered, stood up, spun around and backed up from him. "Ah, well," She passed a hand over her burning cheeks, "Yes, they're still there, as you.. can tell.." Laeti backed up half a pace, bumping into sten lightly with her back.

Zevran grinned wide, despite the glaring look Wynne shot him. "That was cruel." She scoffed, to which Zevran gave a laugh "I know, I'm a bad, bad man, may I rest my head on your bosom? I wish to cry." He gave a playful grin her way.

"Egad, not this again.." Wynne gave an exhausted sigh, rubbing her head with her hand.

"Qunari do not get hiccups." Sten stated, to which Laeti gave a quizzicle look, "Is that a species thing? No lungs?" Slyly, Laeti grinned, eyes sparkling with humour, "Do you have gills, sten?" She accused suspiciously and the woman tapped her chin lightly as if in thought.

"No. Qunari do not get hiccups because we have the willpower to not." Sten stated in that blunt and obvious way that he did, though stating more firmly the 'no' in the sentence then anything else. Laeti hiccuped, bouncing slightly as she did so, sticking out her tongue for a moment, Laeti scowled "I have willpower, gills!"

"Prove it, Kadan." Sten demanded, all to pleased with the fact that a bit of reverse phycology always seemed to work on the little elf, perhaps, it worked with all elves..

Morrigan paced her portion of camp, trying to recall just what that spell was to be rid of hiccups.. She knew that it was one she'd never used before, and it's appearance only allowing itself in a footnote in one of her texts, as that was simply not the purpose of magic. Still, she could have sworn she could recall it, and, seeing that the qunari had said something that had Laeti slowly growing redder in the face as if she intended to hold her breath until she passed out, Morrigan decided to skip the rule of a formal attempt for the moment.

The dark witch concentrated, magic sizzling under her finger tips as her hands wove the spell into appearance, flickering her wrist, she found that not only was her aim off ever so slightly to the left, but also seemingly having the opposite effect.

Sten hiccuped, his tall and muscular frame jumping slightly, shooting Morrigan the famed intimidating look of the Qunari, to which she acted innocent, and strode into her own tent as if distracted by something else. "Bas Saarabas.." He growled in her direction, hiccuping once again.

Laeti laughed hard, throwing her head back, her laughter a mix of hiccuping gasps and the bubbling noise that Zevran quite found himself craving at times. Leliana rolled her eyes, setting down her lute from her hands and propping it against Laeti's tent for the moment being, stood and gave the other members of the group a deliberate look. "Oh please, this just requires a bit of finesse." Leliana's voice was laced with her Orlesian accent, striding over to Laeti.

Leliana certainly knew how to fix hiccups, when all else failed, what she had always done was to deliver shocking news, or something of that nature. Laeti, on the other hand, didn't seem the type to mind to terribly about the fashions that the latest king wore, and instead Leliana decided on an old classic.

Sex.

Laeti's innocence was obvious, as well as her fraternization with Zevran, herself being one of the many in the group thinking that the Antivan Massage had led to more, as it was the common belief through the camp, as only the qunari was still awake to see the assassin kicked out of her tent forcefully when the misunderstanding came to light.

The two women walked to the edge of camp to speak privatly, where, speaking softly, they were out of earshot of the many members of the group.

"So, you and Zevran.." Leliana started, expecting her tone to be taken into account for what she intended to bring up in conversation. Laeti simply tilted her head, her red hair splaying on her back in the slight movement. "Yes..?"

For one heart stopping moment, Laeti was certain that Leliana was going to accuse her of her last adventures with Zevran, in which upon a trip and a shove, the two had wound up in another's tent. Seperatly, of course.

"You and Zevran. Together, looking contented. You even have a... glow about you. So shameless." Leliana playfully scolded, shaking her head slightly, though, disappointingly, Laeti hiccuped with a short jump, the innuendo going over her head, and the dalish imagined that Leliana was speaking of the Antivan massage and not what many assumed had come after it.

Laeti gave a smile, holding her hand before her eyes, yes, that massage had felt rather nice, her muscles had yet to ache again, but she wouldn't go so far as to say she 'glowed'.. Though, the memory of his touch was a rather common one on her mind.

Oh, she had it bad.

"I'm not glowing, am I?" Laeti frowned slightly, hiccuping as she turned her hand before her eyes, fingers spread. "Of course you're not! Leliana's just seeing things again, isn't she?" Leliana allowed, gesturing loosly with a hand, it seemed she'd have to be a bit more obvious on this one "So, how is Zevran?"

Zevran, who after hearing his name said so many times, grew rather curious at the conversation at hand, and ever so slyly kept his back to the women, polishing the blade, acting as if it held all of his attention, but ears perked to the words spoken.

"He looks fine to me.." Laeti looked over at the blonde elf, frowning, "Why? Do you think he's ill?" Leliana laughed lightly, going on as the hiccups continued, "You know what I mean.. Zevran and you.. That time in camp.. He must be quite delightful.. You wouldn't be so happy otherwise, I think." Leliana pressed, disappointed to see that the hiccups remained, "He's athletic, that's always nice. And he's very experianced, isn't he?"

Zevran was terribly afraid he'd ruin it by laughing, and settled for silently staring into the blade, the grin on his features spreading.

They thought that Laeti had bedded him, did they?

"VERY experianced," Laeti gave a nod, of course, talking about a massage, though sadly, like so often, her words were come to be misunderstood, especially when she continued with, "and he takes charge!" Laeti gave a hearted shake of the fist.

The blade slipped in Zevran's hands, cutting his palm as his shoulders shook with the hilarity of the event. Laeti, being as she was, was speaking of an innocent (mostly) massage, while Leliana heard and was speaking clearly about bedding!

Alistair strode back into camp, glancing over at Leliana as she spoke to Laeti in a hushed tone. "What are you giggling about? What's she giggling about?" Alistair asked Zevran when Leliana didn't answer quickly enough for him. "Me and my performance, apparently, Chantry Boy." Zevran smirked, putting the blade aside.

Alistair blinked for a second, "Your performance? What performance? Did I miss something while I was away?" Alistair asked curiously, certain that he had missed something entertaining while he was on the path to the river.

Leliana glanced over Laeti's shoulder at Alistair, with Laeti turning around slightly as she did so, both elaborating at the same time, speaking over one another.

"We're just talking about how he treats her in bed-"

"We're talking about massages-"

Both women stopped and slowly stared to one another.

"Why would anyone- Maker! What's WRONG with you women?" Alistair demanded, face red and unbelieving that a whole conversation could be dedicated to that. It took a moment to explain to the others that Laeti was speaking of a massage, and that she hadn't in fact, bedded Zevran (much to many of the group's relief) the time that he had been invited (allowed, really) into her tent.

Oghren snorted a laugh, walking over with a drunken swagger, flask in hand, the ale sloshing over the sides and clumping in the soil at his booted feet. These surface dwellers were sodding idiots, as far as hiccups were concerned, everyone rightly knew that one had to drink something to get rid of some persistant hiccups! "Aye, warden, I know what you need for.. heh, hiccups.." He held out the flask that so often was in his hand to the taller woman, to which the elf raised her eyebrows curiously.

Zevran lifted the flask from Oghren's hand. "No, no I don't think that our warden will handle alcohol well." The flask stank to his senses, and Zevran gave it a disgusted look, recalling the words spoken to the dwarf about the never ending supply that he never seemed to purchase. "This swill would not be a wise choice, in any event."

Laeti hiccuped, shaking her head at the group that seemed to flock around her, acting so strangely and seemingly so obsessed with her persistant hiccups. "You are all acting very strangely.." She slipped out of the many bodies around her, walking to her own tent to pull a folded and faded map out of her pack that lie beside her bedroll. Sitting on the roll cross legged, Laeti opened the map in her lap, tracing the paths for their next destination with a light finger tip.

Bumu, having finished digging a nice hole beside camp, strode up to his Mistress' tent, leaping through the open flap, the mabari widened his stance and barked loudly at the woman. Clearly, he could startle the elf, and thus, end her persistant hiccups (whatever THOSE were)

Laeti jolted with another hiccup, and simply smiled lightly, patting the mabari on the head and scratching behind his floppy ears lightly. "Good boy, Bumu." She praised, voice as affectionate as always when she regarded him.

It took her some time before she had selected the best route, stepping out of her tent, she came face to face with Shale. Towering over the little elf, the golem had to look downwards to meet her eye.

"It has occurred to me that hiccups are an optional occurance." Shale stated, of course, knowing for certain that this was in fact, the truth. After all, Shale had never desired to have hiccups, and thus, could never recall having one. Or, at the very least, be saddled with persistant ones that seemed immune to just about everything.

"Do you think so?" Laeti indulged the golem, a hiccup jumping her small frame once again. "It would appear so." Shale remarked, "But, regardless, it seems that it lacks the ability to keep itself from doing such. Eating a sweet thing is said to be a cure." Shale nodded once, her word, naturally being true, and would thus end the damnable hiccups.

"We don't have anything sweet in camp, Sten ate it all." Laeti explained with a short hiccup.

Zevran, who was quite entertained by the whole aspect, gave a very wide, cocky grin as Shale strode past him in defeat. To which the golem seemed bemused, voice hard as it confronted the elf, "What is it so cheerful about? It's attempt failed as well.

"You haven't seen my attempt, now have you?" Zevran smirked, shaking his head. "My friend, I would not even have to say one word to rid our dear warden of those hiccups." He stated confidently, knowing for certain for such to be true. Shale, on the other hand, sadly seemed to doubt him strongly. Morrigan smirked, striding past the pair with a grin, "Remind me to take you with if we ever go sailing, all that hot air should prove useful." with a purpose, she ducked inside her own tent, the cloth closing behind her.

Morrigan, having had heard that a sudden suprise of pain or shock would rid one of hiccups, rifled through her own pack in her tent. Finally, her fingers closed around the cloth of the Alistair doll, complete with the pin stowed inside it's stomach.

Luckily for the templar, she hadn't put on the voodoo spell.

Yet.

It seemed that the day was coming to an end with Laeti still hiccuping, though after some time she found herself devoted to the fire once again, crouched over the dying flickers of flames to coax life into the shrinking heat. Plucking the pin out of the soft fabric of the doll, Morrigan strode to the fireside. With a quick hand, the pin flashed in the flickering fire light, to peirce the skin of the Grey Warden, drawing a doublet of blood. Laeti yelped, for all her Dalish hunting training and leapt from the needle, hopping on one leg comidically to keep from falling into the fire face first.

Still, it was only with a quick move on the assassin's part that the Grey warden did not. Reaching out a hand, he caught her by the back of the shirt, pulling her back to land on the soil with a soft thump. Giving Shale a purposeful look, Zevran gave a coy wink, crouching in front of the hiccuping elf, his hands slide out to cup her face slightly, pulling her closer.

The kiss was sweet, and rather innocent, maddeningly.

Laeti was flushed, and silent as he pulled back after a moment, time seeming to move ever so much slower. Everything seemed to fall silent, at least to her, and she blankly searched his features for defining expressions of anything.

Did he like her?

Or was this simply a joke to him? A taunt?

Zevran stood, spreading his arms to the rest of the group. "I believe I win, yes?"

Damn. She thought hollowly, the world crashing back around her miserably. Laeti's fingers scrambled to find her bow, and without a word, she strode down the path. Hunting. Hunting would clear her mind. Laeti thought firmly, lifting a hand and tracing her lips with a light finger.

But.. For a moment, she'd thought he'd liked her.

By the time that she returned to the camp, all eyes slid to the still hiccuping Qunari, who blantedly ignored the members of the company, polishing his blade in his hand with much skill, his back to the party and eyes on the flames. Laeti smiled slightly, glancing to Alistair slyly as she shifted her weight to lean ever so slightly closer as she mumbled softly his way.

"So, what are the rules for curing a Qunari of hiccups?"


	8. A Drop Of Poison

It wasn't the first time that she found herself distracted by an action of Zevran, and as the feeling of familiarity seemed to spread on her, she truly doubted that it would the last. Laeti cringed, white hot pain moving like electricity from her back as she turned her body slightly, clentching her teeth together at how her movement to end such pain seemed to make it worse. Oh, she just HAD to get injured on her BACK, of all places! She thought bitterly, exhausperated with the linger pain.

"Hold still." Wynne sighed, her voice aged with experience and knowledge brought very little comfort to the elf sitting before her, red hair momentarily brushed away from her injured back. Laeti groaned softly, turning her attention back towards the front of the tent that surrounded her and the elder mage.

"Didn't you say that this would last only a week at the most?" Laeti accused grumpily, turning her head slightly to the mage at her back. It seemed like it had been more then a week since she had returned to camp on Alistair's back. "I did, but that was assuming you'd listen to my advice." Wynne retorted, fingers probbing the healing wound lightly.

Laeti, being a Dalish was not one to display weakness for others to see, instead she simply clentched jaw tighter, her hands settling on her knees below her to dig into flesh with her uneven nails. Still, her voice grew strained and thin, even as she tried at humor, "I DID take your advice." Laeti pressed, occupieing her mind with the fabric of the tent wall before her, her face contorted into a pained grimace.

"Oh, of course you did. I asked that you rest for the week, you rested a total of two days, and even then, it was because the assassin was all but holding you down-" Laeti flushed, "He was not doing anything of the sort! Besides, it was healed up well enough. Stopped bleeding and everything." Wynne gave the red headed elf a look of annoyance. "You tore your stitches. Twice. And you have been ever since. This would have been a week recovery, but because you intend to spent the time you are supposed to REST in fighting, overloading your pack, and sleeping on your injury, it has gotten worse." Wynne pulled her pack over to herself, opening the top to find the bandages within.

"I sleep on my back. It's what I do." Laeti stated stubbornly, closing her eyes in anticipation for the bandages. Her back was tender, and needless to say, it was going to sting, it so usually did when Wynne rebandaged her back. But, she didn't trust the act to anyone else, when exposed, the injuries on her back left little room for her armor, leaving her wearing simple and long cloth around her chest.

It didn't show anything, naturally, but still..

Zevran was going mad with restless fury, pacing absentmindedly by the camp, ears perking at the slightest hint of pain in Laeti's voice. She wasn't the type to call out, but that tone she had cut through him as if she had. Oh, he couldn't stand the worry that flooded through him at her one word. Why did his world seem to stop for her? How could he, Zevran Arainai, be so affected as to be unable to think upon her mere pained tone? Zevran sighed, noticing that his unrest was leading him to pace the camp.

What was that Dalish doing to him?

Though, he'd suspected that the fact Laeti forwent most of her recovery (he was lucky to be able to get her to stay two days in bed) was at fault for her longer recovery time, he still found it rather interesting that her strange night habits were leading to the same outcome.

Perhaps he could offer his help, if he could just get his mind under control.

It seemed like ages, ages with the elf throwing blades at a nearby tree, forcing his restlessness through his actions, before Laeti stepped out of her tent, bandages freshly white, and dressed in her loose green cloak hanging around her frame. Her skin was paler, something he took careful notice towards, before walking over to her, a grin on his lips and a witty line upon his tongue.

Clearly, he was lusting for this little dalish because she seemed to be the only one in the entire camp that wouldn't have him. Wouldn't even indulge his well woven words.

"Zevran, can we speak about something?" Laeti asked, standing stiff before him and moving her back minimally. Maker, she was beautiful, Zevran allowed his eyes to slip over her smaller frame appreciatively before meeting her gaze, watching those pale cheeks of hers flush such a lovely shade of red.

Five more points for that hue, naturally.

"That did not work out so well the last time, yes?" Zevran grinned, recalling the time in which she had asked him a question, or rather, had tried, but after a few looks from himself, she had found herself so flustered that she fell backwards and into Alistair's tent as he slept. Returning the favor back to Zevran when she emerged, though alternatively, she had pushed the man into Oghren's tent instead of an ex Templar's.

Zevran repressed a shudder as he drew his attention back towards the elf just a bit shorter then him with a fond smile.

"Mm, well, maybe not THAT time.." Laeti shifted her stance slightly, cringing as the bandages stroked her sore wounds on her back. "That kiss, the one for the hiccups.." She started, features searching his for something that he wasn't sure existed. Zevran's entire body froze. What did she want from him? To claim that it meant nothing to him, that he wasn't recalling the pressure of her lips against his fondly? Thus she wasn't bound to explain that it meant absolutly nothing to herself to him? Perhaps, she desired it to mean something, to claim him as hers and only hers. Ugh.. Committment.. Even for those pretty blue eyes, he just wouldn't. The madness that was in his mind stirred wildly, and he quite saw no way to get out of the situation unharmed, as it were.

Zevran couldn't do it.

"Did you truly have to specify which kiss, my dear warden?" Zevran rolled his eyes, his hands clentching into fists at his sides. What did she expect from him? What did she want from him? It was simply, far to much. Denying it all, that was so much easier. So much more familiar to distance himself from her, to have her name fade to the countless he had forgotten.

"As for what it meant, as I'm sure you mean to ask, it was merely a cure for hiccups. Nothing more."

These surfacers had some STRANGE mating rituals, Oghren speculated drunkly, stumbling slightly outside of his own tent, a flask in hand as he watched the pair. They were so busy dancing around one another that they were tripping over their own sodding feet! Glancing to the sloshing flask in his hand, a wide grin spread on his features as a throaty chuckle escaped his lips.

They needed to loosen up a bit, it'd be a mercy to themselves and everyone else in the group. Already Oghren was working out a plan, involving the mabari, health potions, and some ale (Not his own brew, naturally, that was to good for such an occasion)

In the latest hour they could manage, as Zevran left camp to keep watch, Bumu snuck around the camp, eagerly poking his large head into the tents to drag out the leather packs of the group. Each in turn was sorted through for health potions, which, when discovered, were filled with a slight amount of alcohol. Just enough to loosen a few belts, he thought to himself, swatting at the mabari as once again Bumu dragged a half eaten hare into one of the packs.

How the hell was he supposed to know that the group would battle a high dragon the next day?

Rain was the first noise Laeti awoke even slightly to, the patter of the droplets against the fabric of the tent in a gentle cascade enveloped the ever so slightly stirring elf. From the sound of it, she supposed groggily, it was raining rather hard outside the small tent, the downpour rousing her consciousness insistently. The air had a certain chill to it, biting at any piece of exposed skin available to itself.

Strangely enough, though she felt the cold pebble on her skin, Laeti felt warmed to her toes, accompanied by a feeling of hotness just beneath the skin. She felt contented, pleased, and safe for once in the morning. Absolutely nothing like the fear that so wrapped itself around her heart usually when she woke. Nightmares so often waking her many times in the night until she simply gave up on the prospect of sleep and rose, often well before the sun.

With a deep breath Laeti shifted her body slightly as she welcomed the awake world before her. Stretching out her arm that lay over top of something warm, Laeti froze, an electrical sensation running through her entire body, a weight around her waist tightened slightly at her movements, fingers ghosting over her hip protectively. Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes flying open.

Even in the dim morning light, accompanied by loud claps of thunder and flashes of blinding light, she could recognize the features of the man she looked up towards, though she failed to register a name for a long moment, taking in her bearings dizzingly. Laeti lay upon her side, a body larger then her own pressed against hers. Her head was upon his shoulder, with an arm outstretched across the top of his chest, a muscular, well toned thing. Her other arm was beneath her body completely numb and undoubtedly crushed under her weight, she no doubt would be dealing with pins and needles immediately after she lifted the weight.

The man she couldn't seem to put a name on, was a handsome one, with a muscular build and taller frame then herself, though not so large as to be a qunari and fine features on his face. Elven ears could be seen through braided back blonde hair, with a bold yet elegant tattoo stretching across his features on the left side.

Zevran.

Zevran could not, for the life of him recall the night before, or rather, anything from the day before, and it seemed that it would truly be worth recalling, seeing as the little Dalish was quite literally in his arms beside him. She was such a light little thing for something so strong, weighing so little on the shoulder she had her head upon on that he hardly noticed her weight in the slightest.

For the past hour he had been finding collective reasons to not rise and make it apparent that he was awake, but, as the hour passed, they started to seem more like excuses. Oh, how it was JUST his luck that he couldn't recall the one night he spent with the one woman in camp that didn't desire him in the slightest. Though, he supposed as he felt her stir and shift beside him, if his drunken self had managed the feat, he could certainly replicate it!

Oh, he couldn't seem to stay away from that damn little dalish!

He felt the woman wake up, shifting to look up at the situation. She seemed to have come to the same conclusion as he had, though her reaction seemed far different. The skin under his fingers grew tense, and she gasped, clearly upset and distressed as she sat up, pulling back from him, her arm slipping off of his chest and her body out of reach.

"Before you actually kill me this time, you should know we're both fully dressed. So you're mistaken if you think anything occurred." Zevran purred, opening his eyes, already missing sensation of that soft skin beside him. It had been the first thought to himself as well, specifically because he had felt her arm across the bare skin of his chest. Laeti, alternatively, had felt his skin on her hip, coming to the exact same conclusion, though a moment later.

He didn't sleep in a shirt if he could help it, settling instead for a bare chest and comfortable pants. Laeti, alternatively, wore the very same long piece of cloth across her chest, leaving her injured back untouched (much to her embarresment), loose pants around her waist. Laeti breathed a sigh of relief, ears expressively dropping and features calming, much to Zevran's offense.

Was the idea really THAT bad to her?

Laeti could finally breath! Oh, she thought with a rush of relief, that was nearly unforgivable! For the Dalish, sex was called bonding, and it was only for those one intended to spend the rest of their lives with. Laeti couldn't help but be relieved. The very idea of bonding with a man who had attempted to kill her, and gone out of his way to lead her on, only to mock her about it later, and NOT remember such an act was something she knew would never be forgiven on her part.

In truth, she hadn't even kissed a man before his cure to her hiccups.

And to know that it meant nothing to him, made her feel cheapened, poisoned at his touch.

Yet, here he was making her heart stop at his look her way.

Dried blood were in cresent forms on his chest, the reason he'd woken up. Apparently, the reason the mysterious dalish warden woke well before him was due to present, and as it would seem, violent nightmares. Zevran noted to speak to Alistair about them, perhaps it was a grey warden attribute.

"I knew you couldn't resist me." Zevran smirked, satisfied that in her sleep she had searched for HIS comfort. And, ego inflatingly, it had worked, when he'd woken, all he'd had to do was whisper some comforting nothings to her, lay his hand upon his back, and she relaxed beneath his palm.

"It's a small tent.." Laeti managed, flushed to the ears and ducking out of the tent, throwing a "We never speak of this again" over her shoulder, tripping on the hem of the tent for a moment on the way out.

Zevran smirked, locking his fingers behind his head with a smirk, watching her go.

Now, how did he manage it again..?


	9. Halloween Special Part I

**- Author's Note -**

**This is the Halloween special for this year, naturally, I wrote it like, 2 am on November 1st.. But hey, it's Halloween SOMEWHERE right now. Happy Holidays! This oneshot has a planned sequel, which will be shown in the next chapter! As always, reviews make me write faster, so gimmie a lot!**

There was a festival in their honor, how could they NOT attend? It would seem that after saving Redcliffe from massing demons and the undead, the small town which was so quickly rebuilding threw a festival on the anniversary of the night without demons. Taking to dress themselves up as creatures from lore and the ordiel, bonfires were lit, and such festival activites were in store.

They, being the ones that had saved the town just one year ago (Had it already been a year?) had been sent a messanger to bring themselves to attend. Laeti had been the one to argue with the hardened members of her group, the ones that claimed it was a lost cause. Laeti had been the one to organize and secure those able to fight, claiming their moral, defenses and leadership abilities upon her surprisingly blunt, yet effective word.

It was the very same group following the woman that turned back the tide of battle after defending the small swatch of a town for hours on end, until the sun rose once more and the night slipped away back into the shadows. The battle had been found inside the Redcliffe castle, where cleverly, the grey warden had tricked and decieved the demon residing in the little boy to leave for three days, giving time for the mages of the circle to arrive.

Naturally, there was a thousand reasons to go.

And the group, was listening to none of them.

"We're a week late for meeting Eamon in Denerim as it is, Zevran." Laeti pointed out, the map across her lap as Wynne unwound the bandages from Laeti's back. Across the top of her chest was a long cloth covering all but the wound upon her back. Recalling quite vivedly the instance in which she received it, Zevran decided to direct his attention to her slender body instead, cringing at the slight memory of seeing her collapsed on Alistair's back as he dragged her back to camp, injured and hurt.

"Precisely my point, my dear warden! What is one more day to a week behind?" Zevran grinned, crouching down on his heel before the sitting warden. In truth, while he found it a rather good sign she was dedicating herself to the routes and planning, it seemed she was to intent upon never getting the group lost again, and found herself tightly bound with pressure and fear.

A festival was JUST what she needed. What most of the group needed, in fact.

"That makes no sense at all, I hope you realise." Laeti stated, looking up, her fingertip still remaining on some hellish back road of the damp country side they were to take. Wynne prodded the wound at Laeti's back with a light and experianced hand.

"It's getting better." She said, almost surprised in tone. Something Zevran found himself incredibly proud of being the cause of. Laeti, on the other hand, adoribly bunched her nose, ears falling down and eyes firmly shut to the finger tips on her back, jaw clentched.

Shoving aside whatever concerned emotions he had on the area, he firmly informed himself that it was just rebandaging a wound, and nothing to worry oneself over. Still, perhaps it best that he hurry along the process of either their interaction, or the bandaging.

Laeti cringed, new bandages touching her back, bringing Zevran to the grand idea to distract her instead. "Ah, but you owe me a favor, no?" Laeti brought her gaze to his, curiousity spreading on her features instead of pain, though mad twinges spread through her as the bandages wound themselves around her form. "For that night in the tent-"

"How does that make ME in YOUR debt for a favor?" Laeti interrupted, a red flush spreading on her features. "Mmm, you came out better for it, yes?" Zevran smirked, pleased to see that Wynne was tying off the last of the bandages. Laeti gave a short sigh, folding up the map, and holding out to Zevran pointedly.

"Fine. Lead on."

Laeti was interested at the very least to hear that the festivals in Redcliffe seemed to involve humans dressing up as various creatures from lore and legends, as well as the undead faced in the hellish raids. Sadly, however, by the time they were outside of the small town, she found herself and others at a loss for costume choices, though around were countless resources to make any ideas reality.

It was then, of course, that Zevran proposed a new game for the group members to bring themselves to play. Where each member was assigned a colored stone, which were then dropped into a helm, randomly, each member drew a stone from the helm, and from the color stone in their palm they could dress and design the member as they chose. The rule, of course, being that when the costume was selected, that person could not back out at the last moment.

Laeti, being assigned a rather bright and loud shade of green, had two stones, one of which in the helm, as were the rules, and another up Zevran's sleeve, the man intending fully to cheat just a bit.

They had, after all, come across so many scantily clad demonesses on their journeys.

Alistair ruined his daydream and plots, unfortunatly, by drawing the very same greenly hue from the helm. Zevran, naturally, would have taken the other stone out of the helm, had Morrigan's ever cynical eye slipped from his for the slightest of moments. It would seem that either she intended to do the same as he, or perhaps she simply disliked the idea of him cheating on the game. Either way, he had planned on removing the second green stone when given the chance, so it was just his luck that the first stone drawn was said stone.

And it was ALISTAIR, no less.

No doubt he'd ask her to be a sister of the Chantry!

Alistair flushed a bright red, well, he hadn't imagined he'd get her stone, but now that he did.. Why.. Pass up the opportunity, right? "Laeti, will you dress as a queen?" Laeti gave a quizzical look, reminding him that she had little to no knowledge what a queen was, let alone what she wore. "You'll have to help me with that one, a she human lord is not something I've seen before in my travels with my clan."

Alistair grinned wide at the little dalish, eyes sparkling as he opened his mouth for a witty retort. Zevran, quite happily, cut him off. "My turn I take it?" Zevran mused aloud, stepping towards the helm with the colored stones inside, slipping his hand into the slot he drew his eyes upwards. He still intended to cheat, naturally, but first he needed to distract the onlookers. "Ha! Let's see... When was the last time I slipped my hand into some dark hole? Hmm.. I remember, long story that."

Variously, the group members flushed, or gagged, all of which getting the innundo except for Laeti, who frowned in thought. "You play this game often?" Zevran gave a coy, flirtacious grin "VERY often, my dear." Zevran snuck a glance down, fingers eagerly snatching the dark purple stone, proudly holding it up between his two fingers in the face of a very annoyed looking Morrigan.

"I believe this is YOUR color, my dear, no?" Zevran grinned, Morrigan crossed her arms over her chest, watching him with those eerily intense eyes of hers "If you believe for one moment that-"

"Desire demon"

Morrigan was near impossible to convince to keep her word to abide by the rules of the game, though in the end, she conceded, bristling with anger towards the elf.

No doubt he would be regret that later, but as it was, the assassin was quite pleased with himself. After all, that witch of the wilds had kept him from cheating properly, thus, it was quite a good amount of payback.

Sten's turn was next, and with an annoyance towards all of those not to the Qun, wondered what nonsense was going on in the country around him. Though, he indulged the group, reaching into the helm to take out a bright blue stone, nearly shining in radience. Shale's color, naturally, the shade matching the crystals on Shale's body (arranged vertically, one can be sure)

"You are a golem." Sten stated, the understanding of the game going over his head, it would seem. And there was no persuading him to understand otherwise. Shale, naturally, was all to happy to be spared from the strange spell of 'dress up' that had overtaken the camp.

Oghren gave a drunken laugh, his eyes drawn up at Morrigan's form "The things I could do to you.." He trailed off, hiccuping drunkly. Morrigan rolled her eyes, face contorted in disgust. "Ugh, it's leering at me again.." Oghren gave a startled jump, "Oh.. heh.. did I say that out loud?"

Shale lifted an ale colored rock from the helm, holding it carefully between two large fingers. "It has such a way with words" Shale started sarcastically, "it shall make a fine Rhyming Tree, such as the one found in the brecilian forest."

Oghren choked on his drink. "Oh, sod it."

Bumu lurched forwards, knocking the helm out of the grip of Alistair, and poking his head into the opening. Returning with a pure white stone shining between his teeth, Wynne's color, as it were. With a bark, Bumu dropped the stone, taking off to the edge of the camp, where, as quickly as he could, dug a deep hole, returning promptly with a muddied bone in his mouth. Spitting it out at Wynne's feet, the elder mage gently turned it with her foot, trying to find the species for it, rather unsettled.

"I suppose I'm a skeleton then." Wynne pondered aloud.

Laeti reached a hand out, picking up the helm and scattered colored rocks collectively. Sprinkling the rocks back inside the helm, the pings of metal greeting her ears. Averting her eyes, the dalish slipped her hand inside. Closing her fingers around a stone, she raised it out of the opening, a black stone settled in her palm.

"Who was the black stone, again?" Laeti mused aloud, to which Zevran gave a wide smirk, spreading his arms expressively. "That would be me, my dear warden." A larger grin over took his features, flirtacious and lustful in manner, "I wonder what you'll have me dressed as, perhaps some-"

"Pirate!" Laeti managed, not wanting in the slightest to hear the sleazy, or innuedo filled list that would come with his train of thought. As such, she simply said the first thing to her mind, it being wandered to a pirate, from some random legend she'd heard from passing a human city or another in her travels with the clan.

"Arrr! Pirate Zevran reporting for duty! Prepare to be boarded!" Zevran exclaimed, laughing. Oh, what FUN this game was!

Wait, that was vaguely familiar.. Where had he heard of a tale between a queen to be and a handsome pirate?


	10. Halloween Special Part II

**-Author's Note-**

**Well, here it is, four days after Halloween. Still, it was fun to write, but to keep the T rating, the characters had some alterations to their costumes (Mostly the ones that Zevran suggested) I swear.. That man raises the ratings of every fan fiction he's in.. A big thank you for the readers, followers, favoriters, and reviewers for this fanfiction! You've all definatly inspired me to write better, as well as more often!**

"I'm seeing a lot of clothes and jewlery here, but not any PANTS." Laeti exclaimed, arms dripping with layers of clothes heaved upon her in piles. Alistair thought a moment, "It's a dress, I think that's the point." Laeti seemed entirely baffled by the idea, and argued with Alistair for some time about whether or not they were a Fereldon sex fetish. With Alistair in the background as Oghren stepped up the offered helm before him.

True to his ever drunken nature, Oghren stumbled madly a few times before successfully drawing a smoothened and brown shaded stone from the helm, the choices now dwindling inside the metal helm. "Eh? Who's the sodding dirt rock?" Alistair cleared his throat, stepping to look across the area and around Laeti at the dwarf.

"That'd be me." Inwardly, Alistair groaned, no doubt their drunken, dwarven friend would have something particularly cruel in store for him. Though, his unease was forced away as he glanced back at Laeti, whom, having had such curiousity, had lifted the fake gold and jewled circle crown from the pile of clothes in her hand, crookedly setting it on her red hair. Pursing her lips and turning them to the side, she raised her eye brows, looking up at it curiously.

"Do she human lords truly WEAR this?" She inquired, the crown falling over one of her eyes with an irriated noise from Laeti.

She was so CUTE!

Zevran was not quite appreciative on the look on Alistair's face. Ugh, the ex templar was going and developing a CRUSH, was he? He supposed it was well enough, he seemed the type to fall for anyone who so much as gave him a pat on the shoulder, as such, he didn't mind to much, absently leaning slightly against a nearby tree at camp, crossing his arms over his chest as a small grin spread on his features. That little Dalish really was to much.

Alistair could give her all the adoring looks he liked-

Laeti smiled at Alistair widely, giving a short sheepish laugh his way. Zevran froze completely, every muscle in him tensing and grin freezing on his features, his thoughts of nonchalance ending abruptly. Quickly, Zevran disguised his unease (as, that was precisely what he would call it) striding over to step in between the line of sight of Laeti with a wide, flirtacious grin without a moment's pause. "I believe that a part of the game was to dress the other, yes? Won't you show me what pirate sort you had in mind, my dear queen?" Laeti's cheeks flushed that delicious slightly red shade as she tried to brush off the comment by shifting the amount of clothing in one arm and using the opposite to wave absentmindedly.

"Nothing too complicated, or.. Ahem.. Anything like you're probably thinking of." Zevran gave a wide grin "Oh? And just what is it you think that I am envisioning?" Zevran purred, daring her to say it aloud, something Laeti quite felt was never going to happen, at least not from HER lips. Instead, she rolled her eyes, flustered "Nothing clean." she muttered, dropping her free hand to her side, absently taking his wrist and pulling him along with as she ducked into her tent to find the clothing for a pirate.

"Pike twirler, you'll be a sodding barbarian for this sodding surfacer festival." Oghren announced, simply choosing a random idea that he'd heard before, not giving the effort to define the term before stomping off to find Shale to have the costume of the Ryming Tree sorted out. Alistair couldn't help but be absolutly certain that Oghren would simply hand him a random pile of clothing (if anything at all) for the costume, and thus the original idea behind it wouldn't all that important.

The helm was passed to the elder mage Wynne, who, taking it in one hand, mixed the final three stones with a twist of the wrist before reaching in, removing a sharply edged steel shaded stone, holding it in the palm of her hand. "Sten, this was your stone, wasn't it?" The qunari gave a short nod, looking over, still not properly understanding the full point, or meaning to the game at hand.

"You'd make a rather good Ogre, I would think." Wynne started kindly, much to the Qunari's confusion. "Parsharra, there is not point to this. I am a Qunari, not an Ogre." Sten stated quite clearly, the woman might as well be babbling mad gibberish, he was no Ogre. Why did she expect him to dress as one of the many enemies they faced? Patiently, Wynne spoke with Sten about the purpose of the game around the edge of the camp, walking with him as their portion of the game was finished. Though, she had been quite certain to hand the helm to Leliana as she passed the bard.

Leliana took the metal helm in her hand, two stones shifting noisily within it's depth at the small amount of movement this rose. Reaching in, Leliana drew forth one stone, the shade being a bright, loud and flamboyantly absurd hue of red. The mabari's color, and, as if he knew such a fact to be true, Bumu bounded back and forth upon her heels excitedly.

"I have no idea what one would dress a mabari up as.. But it should be fun, yes? There's probably some ribbon lying around.." Leliana thought to herself aloud, to which Bumu whined, sinking low to the ground, tail between his legs and all excitedness disappearing from the mabari entirely. "Oh, come on, it won't be that bad! I'll just cover up all those paint spots on you! Maybe even give you a bath, as well." Lelina assured Bumu, crouching down beside him, setting the helm to her side as she patted the mabari on the top of the head.

Laeti groaned at Zevran from inside the tent, movement and context being left to the imagination of the group as they were far from view behind the cloth of the tent. "Zevran, I put that shirt on YOU. Least you could do is help me lace up I have no idea how these dresses are supposed to be put on." Laeti grumbled, annoyed at having to ask for assistance on something others found so trivial. "I don't see why there's such a design of clothing as to NEED assistance to put it on!"

"Well, dear warden, my expertise is not putting the dress ON." Zevran remarked with a purring tone. "No doubt that is the Chantry Boy's area of expertise, yes?" Laeti scoffed lightly, her tone colored with annoyance, "Fine. I'll ask him." She answered shortly, leading Alistair to look over at her tent, arms filled with a random stack of clothing. Curiously, he wondered if he was in fact, the one supposed to be helping Laeti with the dress because he had selected her colored stone. He certainly couldn't deny that he was envious.

"It should be simple, no? I've taken quite a few of these off in the past-" Zevran started, much to Laeti's displeasure, "You're bringing this up for WHAT reason again?" Zevran promptly decided to ignore the outburst, continuing on as he spoke, "Doing it in reverse should be no different, I should think. You should lie down, might remind more of how it goes, yes?"

"You dirty pervert." Laeti accused. Zevran laughed, "I believe it laces up in the back, no?"

Morrigan sighed annoyedly, rubbing her temples with a hand, "As if a dress truly mattered so much.. Or were such a trouble to put on.." Leliana looked up, her hand still splayed on the head of the sulking mabari. "You don't wear dresses, I take it? Some of them can be quite complicated." Morrigan scoffed, waving a hand absently, "They are a form of clothing, I see no reason why not to wear one if the need arises and it suits me."

"Maybe we could get you in a nice dress one day. Silk. No, maybe velvet. Velvet is heavier, better to guard against the cold in Ferelden. Dark red velvet, yes. With gold embroidery. It should be cut low in the front of the course, we don't want to hide your features." Leliana prattled on, much to Morrigan's annoyance. Though, the most strange and disturbing degree was found when Leliana seemed to give her chest a measuring look.

Morrigan paid no mind when a man stared at her chest, they couldn't help themselves, they were all fools, after all. But a woman? The idea seemed entirely different and unsettling. Beyond that, men seemed to have a rather grateful look to their eye. Where as this woman seemed to have an appraising and judgmental look to it.

"Stop looking at my breasts like that. 'Tis most disturbing!" Morrigan snapped, much Leliana's interest, raising an eyebrow, she pressed, "You don't think so? And if it's cut low in the front we must put your hair up to show off that lovely neck." Leliana continued as if Morrigan had never spoken. Morrigan crossed her arms over her chest, both as a sign of irritation, and because the appraising look seemed to linger. "You are insane. I would sooner let Alistair dress me."

Alistair gagged, looking across camp with a look that spoke volumes about how that would never happen, costume game or no. "Like I'd want to dress YOU." He snapped, clearly proud of himself for doing so.

Ugh, it was dangerous to give men egos. It really was.

"Oh? Perhaps there is someone else you would much rather be dressing." Morrigan snapped back with a pointed gesture towards Laeti's tent. Leliana seemed to not be paying the pair much mind, rather enjoying messing with Morrigan on the subject of dresses. "It'll be fun, I promise! We'll get some shoes too! Ah, shoes! We could go shopping together."

Morrigan had had her fill. "I believe the last stone was yours, Leliana. And, as it is, it is my turn to select. I believe that the Lady Of The Forest we confronted in the Brecilian Forest will suit you well."

Leliana was incredibly stubborn from that point on, and it was only when the fact she had sworn on her word, the same word she had promised herself to the Maker with, that she would abide by the rules of the game that she finally obligued. Much to Zevran's delight, after all, how could he help it? To his side stood a beautiful queen, even if her crown fell into her misty blue eyes quite often with the size. Beside her stood a handsome templar whom, because the dwarf couldn't be bothered, wore a rather small barbarian's generic costume. Standing beside him was an elder mage who wore paint upon her skin to glow a white shade in the dark in specific, bone like patterns when the sun went down.

The qunari dressed as an ogre actually fit the part, although the horns did seem to look a bit out of place on him.. Shale, while not actually being in any costume in the slightest, had a pair of fuzzy black kitten ears atop Shale's head, the culprit, of course, having taken advantage of a rare moment of distraction for the golem. Bumu, the miserable mabari, soon found himself dripping in ribbon and lace, much to his annoyance, no general costume in mind, but simply the decoration of his fur in a femimine fashion.

The witch Morrigan, though she was annoyed by the ordiel made a rather fine Desire Demon, though, she had naturally tweaked the costume at her own insistance to have more clothing, but still, the spirit of the costume was there. Leliana was about the same way, though she'd rather not be compared to morrigan, in the same sense she had stubbornly changed the original costume to one better suited to herself. Oghren, the drunk dwarf, simply held a twig in each hand, and spoke in drunk and dirty, poorly thought out limericks the entire night through.

Zevran, naturally, was one of the lucky few that actually had gotten the stone drawn by one who took the costume seriously, and thus he wore a loose white shirt with a drawstring front with fabric pants of a black color. In his hand was some sort of very thin blade, a rapier, as he'd been told it was. On his features were a black mask, and his hair was pulled back in a loose pony tail.

Perhaps they could do this every year..

Assuming, of course, they all survived the Blight, as well as each other.


	11. His Hands Over Hers

Alistair had claimed that there was a way to tame the nightmares, at least the archdemon related ones. He was sweet enough, sitting up by the fireside late at night as she stretched the awake hours she spent to their breaking point, simply defining the tricks he had been told of to end the Archdemon influenced nightmares as they sat.

He didn't seem to understand that it wasn't the Archdemon she feared when she closed her eyes.

Laeti sighed, the hours of her awake time stretched to the bone, and thus, she could do nothing but retire to her tent after bidding Alistair a good night. He was to sweet to tell him that his ideas and charms weren't working, or rather, they DID work but proved ineffective to the problem at hand. Besides her unwilling mind was reluctant to mar his bumbling and widely pleased features with the fact he couldn't help her. Following after the thought was the fact that she didn't desire the conversation that would no doubt bloom forth.

Dalish didn't need help. At least not proper Dalish.

She didn't need help, and as such, she strode past Zevran, who had a preposition on his lips as she strode past him. In truth, the both of them desired rather strongly to ask the other to repeat the night before. But, as the night had been effective, her back had been healed completely, and thus neither could think of an excuse to tell themselves or the other.

"Good night, Zevran." Laeti nodded to him silently, the starlight dancing in her ever bright misty eyes. "Good night, Laeti." Zevran gave a small smirk, taking a seat beside the cackling fire, entirely confused by how disappointed he was that he had not been invited into her tent for a second night.

The feeling was mutual.

As always, her exhaustion over took her as she laid upon her newly healed back on her bed roll. It seemed that her qualms for a dreamless night or simply to keep sleep at bay a moment longer were refused and ignored by the over riding fact that she was, in a powerful sense, extremely tired. It was to be expected, naturally, she did travel day and night alike, often fighting extensively with large ambushes, as well as sparring with Zevran when the time allowed. On top of that, she was constantly sorting through the madness that was her mind, in be said, it no doubt didn't particuarly help that she pushed sleep aside until she could no longer push it aside any further, and thus slept fairly minimally.

No, it wasn't the archdemon she feared in her dreams.

She had been different back then.

Laeti's ears perked ever so slightly, her skin tanned slightly from the sun that peeked behind the rustling green leaves that shifted every so slightly in the gentle breeze. Fereldon was a cold and bitter place, with quick winds and even quicker rains. It seemed that more often then not the soft soil beneath her boots melted into thick and stinking mud that clung to any flesh and clothing it could find. Every muscle in herself was tight, taunt with suspense, a bow drawn back in her hand with an arrow notched ever so delicately on the string. The bow itself was beloved, decorated in carvings of great value to herself, with a strand of leather twisting it's way around the iron wood in delicate precision, tying in slender feathers of crows at the end with colored beads knocking against one another as her breath shook the bow ever so slightly.

The bark felt rough on her back, even through her light armour, the chill in the air raising bumps on her exposed arms and legs and with a heavy will power, she willed herself not to shiver as the cold sank it's teeth deeper into her flesh. No, she scolded herself, she was letting herself get so worked up in miserable notes once again! Tamlen so often scolded her playfully for it, it seemed that if she was left to herself she would worry herself over a single thing, and overwhelm upon herself with it's existence. Yes, this hunt was miserable, yes, she had a feeling of foreboding around her, but she needed to ignore it. Letting out a silent breath, she allowed the chill to seep into her bones, turning her skin to stone and her heartbeat slowed. With a deliberately slow breath back in, she gave herself over completely to the area around her.

Her senses melding to the world around her completely.

The cold didn't affect her as her ears moved ever so slightly to the sounds of the forest. Listening attentively to the chirping of the far away birds, to the gentle roar of a coming wind that blew her long red hair around her in tangled wisps. A halla's near silent footsteps echoed softly through the air, and smaller animals scampered loudly as they darted from one hiding place to another unsettlingly.

Only one thing would set them off like that.

Shemlen.

Dirty, filthy Shelmen. Laeti despised them the most of all of the Sabrae clan, they were crude, unnecessary, obnoxious drunken fools prone to violence and greed. She had yet to meet a single one that was worth her time to meet in all the trades she'd been involved in with the human settlements. In truth, she had the most reason to despise them, they had, after all, attack her parents before she was born, those filthy Shemlen and their subservient pet Flat Ears. Her father, the keeper of the clan, had been killed, but her mother had escaped as fruit for his dying efforts, and remained in the clan long enough to deliver her child. Before, seeing her child's face, couldn't bear to be reminded of her lost love constantly, and disappeared from the clan entirely.

No one had seen her since.

Laeti had been raised by another, and though bore no ill will to Ashalle for such, and rather respected the person entirely. Her thoughts often fell to those she never knew, an amulet hanging from her hip as proof, oh, how often she fingered that little trinket of her father's! It had been the only thing left from either pair, and in her childhood, Laeti had many times created fanciful tales of a deeper meaning for the amulet then a simple trinket that had been left behind.

She despised Shemlen.

Nothing would change that.

The footsteps pounded heavily on the ground as the Shemlen, who having been spooked like wild game from a bear sprinted the direction of the two dalish hunters. Tamlen was several trees to her side, and gave her a silent and slightly worrisome look. He didn't like how she acted around Shemlen.

Very few around her that knew her tendencies did.

He turned his back from the cover he hid behind, evenly and silently striding out as the human came to a sliding and bumbling stop at his feet. Shemlen in similar clothing came to a skidding stop behind the man as well, each having used different paths. He could chase the humans from the area before Laeti got annoyed, he supposed, but, they were so close to the camp that they posed a danger, so perhaps her methods were neccessary. Tamlen gave the Shemlen a disgusted and belittling look, what right did they have to hunt out their clan after all their kin have done? It was clear to him that they were searching for the dalish camp that was such a short distance to their backs.

"It's a dalish!" The first shemlen exclaimed in shocked surprise, scrambling back and standing with slow stupid and clumsy movements, shaking with fear. Tamlen, with his blonde hair and black tattoos raised his drawn bow to match the movements of the shemlen.

"And you three are somewhere you shouldn't be!" Tamlen stated back, the dark tattoos on his cheeks making his grin seem to stretch farther then it deserved. "Let us pass, elf, you have no right to stop us!" Oh, that hit a tender spot. If they thought that they would get away after stumbling so close to their camp, after insulting them, as well as reminding them so clearly that they had no lands to return to, to call their own?

Not a very wise move. But, then again, perhaps all shemlen were born idiots.

"No? We'll see about that, won't we?" Tamlen snapped back, he wasn't the most patient around shemlen, but he wasn't anything like Laeti. Her feet eased beside his own, her eyes sharp and cold, her grip tightening ever so slightly upon the wood of the bow in her hands at the comment towards Tamlen.

How ridiculous to be protective of him. He was marked of age, with tattooed skin, while she was not. She was to be classified as a child, to fit the part, feel no lust, feel no desire, feel no kinship beyond companionship because she didn't have her tattoos on her features. The truth of the matter being that she didn't desire the knives to peel back her flesh, and couldn't decide upon one elven god to have on her features for the rest of her days. She was to be a child...

But still.

"I found these shemlen lurking in the bushes, bandits no doubt." Tamlen turned his head slightly to Laeti's beautiful features, not allowing his gaze to wander from the three wiggling shemlen before him. Sickeningly, one of the shemlen, a red headed one gave Laeti a slow, deliberate look over the entirety of her body.

Not for the first time did Tamlen come to realise just how revealed her body was in that armor.

Damn shemlen. He thought maliciously, feeling rather strange to have so suddenly sparked a fury to a simple gaze. Laeti shook her head to Tamlen slightly, her red hair falling down her back animatedly. "Bandits come armed." She directed his attention to the men before her. The men gave a relieved look, latching on silently to the idea that one of the Dalish before them would help them out of their prediciment.

"We aren't bandits, I swear! Don't hurt us!" The men begged, stammering over their own tongues. Both archers eased along the open field, weight shifting with each stride as they drew closer and aimed higher for the hearts of the men, each in perfect sync. They had always shared a connection, and no longer did either of them doubt or deny it.

When they hunted, they were one.

"You shemlen are pathetic. It's hard to believe you ever drove us from our homeland." Tamlen breathed a short breath, eyes narrowing to the three before him. "W-we've never done nothing to you Dalish! We didn't even know this forest was yours!" The balding man stammered, moving his arms to and fro in a nervous gesture.

"The forest isn't ours, fool. You've stumbled too close to our camp. You shems are like vermin. We can't trust you not to make mischief." Tamlen declared, his feet as well as Laeti's sliding to a stop as they stood before the men, their bodies clearly before them. The last time mercy had allowed one of the shemlen to leave while knowing their location, there had been an attack.

People had died.

"What do you say, lethallan? What should we do with them?" Tamlen didn't even have to look at Laeti to know what she'd say. "Allow them to speak a time longer, Lethallin, I'm sure they have a story to tell us. You always like those, eh, Tamlen?" Laeti muttered back, amusement flashing in her features.

Never did she promise they would survive the encounter.

It didn't matter what she felt. She would not endanger those dear to her for the sake of some shemlen, or even for the sake of her emotions that so despised killing the unarmed. It was simpler not to feel, not to have those inclinations to do what she so saw as right. It was wrong to endanger those that were innocent for some whimpering, whining men before her. So, why did it feel like she was being weighed down by such choices? She cleared her mind of those thoughts, she had made a choice, same as she always did, and she would stand by it.

Besides, she had desired to know just what lie they would concoct.

Hours later, with her arrows freshly retrieved, stained with blood and put away in quivers, Laeti and Tamlen had discovered the dark cave the shemlen had told them. Laeti was the one to hesitate, the one to stand at the opening, remarking upon the eerie, death like foreshadowing feeling that seeped from the end of the cave in such abundance. But Tamlen's curiosity had them press on, and as she could not deny him, she swallowed her fear and lead on.

Laeti was the one to hesistate, and insist they turn back as the dead lay re dead upon their feet. She had been the one to demand his curiosity be sated upon the strange stone sculptures that crept into her heart with their cold eyes. Tamlen has once again insisted that something else was to be seen, and urged her to continue on.

He knew that when he looked at her like that, with his lip quirked just so, she would do all she asked.

She had allowed it, leading the pair into the large room. A terrible beast had awaited them, half bear, half grotesque monster of disgusting proportions and strength. When it's pelt was once again pressed to the ground, bleeding and dead with eyes wide open, Laeti had loudly been the one to demand they left. Tamlen had seemed so enraptured with the mirror that he strode on feet that weren't his towards the surface, eyes sparkling with interest at the city underground, mumbling aloud his discovery without a second thought.

It was here, within his grasp.

The lost past that the Dalish so longed for, surely it was worth a little shaking fear to hold it in his palm?

It wasn't his palm that touched it.

It was hers.

Laeti called out, bolting upright in her tent, red hair falling around her in mad strands as her entire body shook with fear. Settling her gaze on the dying embers, she willed herself to stand, willed her arms to move from her knees as she whimpered, holding her own body as close as she could.

The dream continued as if she'd never woken, her cursed mind replaying the memory, the ghost of the emotions wrapping around her in wisps as her short call rang through the heavy air. She'd felt something behind her palm, something evil just behind the slick coolness of the glass.

Something pulling her in.

Laeti strode out of the tent, knocking the tent flap aside and ignoring the coolness of the night that stroked her exposed skin in her clothes she wore to bed. Glancing upwards, the dalish woman gave a miserable sigh. The sun was starting to come up.

She'd survived another night.

Supposing that it was early enough to wait for the others to wake, Laeti sat herself by the dying embers of the fire, absently starting the fire a new with much skill, recalling those hands outside of hers, instructing her what to do, how to make the fire stand and dance. Oh, she could just feel the palms of Tahras' hands behind hers, even now. Laeti leaned back a silent moment, eyes slipping over the sparking flames in silent thought.

Tamlen's hands had slipped over hers back then, and with a ferocity he'd torn her from the mirror's surface, knocking her to the ground behind him as the world flashed and a voice called out.

When they'd returned, he was no where to be seen, and her amulet lay crushed beneath her weight.


	12. Body Switch

The fact that the spell had backfired didn't really console those affected by it. Morrigan had, at the time of receiving her mother's grimore, flipped through the pages to find an interesting enough spell. In theory, if cast correctly, it would benefit a vast number to have a permanent increase in health as well as willpower. Something to be tried, if only for it's beneficial effects to each and every member of the group.

The problem was, of course, that it had gone horribly wrong.

Naturally, it would be cured, or rather, it had been cast in such a way that the effects were not permanent, and would only last the day at the most.

Still, quite a few were displeased to suddenly find themselves in a body that wasn't their own.

Laeti, who found herself to be half a head taller, quite a few shades tanner in shade, and surprisingly, of the opposite gender. She wasn't liking it very much, to say the least, and took to sulkily sitting beside the fire side, unwilling to walk to far because of her sudden change in gender. Zevran, on the other hand, while in the past having had quite enough experience with the female gender, was not in the slightest experienced with BEING one.

As such, he was rather surprised to see just how often breasts seemed to get in the way of things. Frustratingly, his, or rather, her, balance had shifted so abruptly, that Zevran stumbled around like a drunk thing, knocking over companions and tents alike.

Ah, he had a new found respect for the female gender.

Sadly, Laeti wasn't going to leave him alone with her body as his, and thus insisted he stayed beside her. He had to say, he looked quite handsome from another's perspective.

Damn near irresistible in fact. How DID Laeti manage it?

Morrigan scowled heavily, her body being switched with one of the male gender, and no less being the one that she despised the most in all of the camp. Alistair, she shuddered at the thought. Not only was her own, familiar, glorious body at that idiot's finger tips, but she was trapped in this bumbling, giant, oddly shaped body for the next day!

Alistair's body was a bit stronger then Morrigan was used to, and while she crushed nearly everything she touched. Alistair, alternatively, found himself feeling extremely cold, and rather exposed upon glancing down to his new body's armor, or rather, lack there of. Much to Morrigan's annoyance, Alistair rushed off in his own tent to find a proper tunic, a deep red settling on Morrigan's cheeks that most certainly did not belong there.

Ugh, it was just her luck, she shook her head silently, Alistair reappearing wearing a rather large and shapeless tunic that did her body no justice.

Fool.

It had been a while since Shale had been like one of the squishy creatures that dumped the watch duty on nightly under the excuse that Shale didn't rest like they did. At least, it felt like it had been a while. A long while. Memories of a long ago past seemed to bubble up, but Shale paid them little mind, after all, that dwarf had volunteered to be a golem, had willingly given up all that was herself, so why should Shale scramble madly for the pieces left behind?

Regardless, Shale thought, turning her new hands before her eyes, it struck her as strange to take the body of the hornless qunari that she so noted during the battles for his strong muscles and thick skin. Testingly, Shale pressed her fingers to her thumb, for the first time in a long time feeling the pressure against the skin, even as thick as it was.

Sten, a short pace away, supposed that a golem's body was an effective body to have, and it made clear sense why the dwarves would desire an army of golems at their gates, even if it was for a doomed cause. Sadly, however, he had yet to get used to the new and far heavier footsteps he had, and the ground cracked beneath his heavy stone.

Oghren didn't have a problem with the fact that his center of balance was off, no, he didn't mind in the slightest that he was now the opposite gender. What REALLY annoyed the sodding hell out of him, was the fact that this body couldn't stand his ale! It tasted sour and disgusting on it's tongue, far more experienced in the tasting of fine wine rather then the strong ale. Taking it as a challenge, Oghren drank down a fair amount of his ale stores before passing out outside of his own tent as usual, though now his body was that of an elder mage.

Wynne, on the other hand, was disgusted to see that not only was she stuck in the dwarf's smelly, and ill taken care of body. She felt immensely filthy in it, and would immediately go to the river to wash it clean if it didn't mean seeing more of the dwarf then she ever desired to. As such, she simply took to cleaning out the dried and discarded food in the red beard, and took one of her perfume bottles to destroy the disgusting and lingering smell.

Oghren would be complaining he smelled like sodding roses for the next month.

Alistair, still in Morrigan's body, found that the ill controlled magic bubbled around him, raising the flames as he walked over to Laeti out of sheer habit. After all, he had other matters on his mind then the fact that someone else resided in Laeti's body for the moment. In truth, he should have expected it, seeing as the one in Laeti's body had taken to poking her chest with a finger curiously, and sat like a man. The one in Zevran's body appeared annoyed, smacking the one in Laeti's body with a stern hand and a look.

In truth, Alistair couldn't take it any longer, Morrigan's body clad in a long tunic that hung over her black shirt in shapeless movement as he approached Laeti. "So, ah, you and Zevran then.." He started nervously. The person inside Laeti's body, who just so happened to be Zevran gave a short look upwards, rolling his eyes.

"You are under the impression I am darling Laeti, yes?"

Alistair was HORRIFIED to see her speak in such a thick Antivan accent, swallowing tightly before cursing himself for being distracted from the wide spread problem at hand that would make her body not her own. And, of course, sick to his stomach to think of how he'd been appreciating that body just a moment ago as he made his way over.

"That would be me, is something we need to talk about Alistair?" Laeti looked over, though curiosity peeked itself on her features, it was still disconcerting to see the Antivan elf staring at him with those eyes of his that seemed to come with the territory. The magic bubbling up around Alistair flared uproariously as his anxiety and nervousness rouse, flaring the fire before them so high upwards in a mighty column that a bird flying low over head gave a squawk before roasting.

As it settled back down, Shale in Sten's body gave a wicked sort of laugh at the death of another winged rat. Laeti and Zevran on the other hand, had been rather alarmed from the sudden column of fire that spat like hell itself, and each were in varying lengths from the fire.

For the camp's sake, Morrigan in Alistair's body had pulled Alistair aside on temporarily containing the unruly magic at his finger tips. Leliana, unfortunately, had switched bodies with a rather excited mabari, and chased after her own body that ran on all fours through the camp excitedly in a new and reeking fur coat.

"I must have given him the look on accident." Laeti in Zevran's body gave a short nod, her newly blonde hair shorter then she was used to, while Zevran was finding the long mass of red hair a blight in of itself to deal with.

"Excuse me? What look do you mean?" Zevran raised an eyebrow, though annoyingly he could no longer rub in the fact that he was a half a head taller then her. In fact, frustratingly, he had to look up to his own body instead. It was mightily unsettling.

"You have this look you have, where you look like you're undressing the other person in you're mind. It's rather creepy and unsettling." Laeti explained lightly, shrugging her arms slightly.

"I do not, and I insist you demonstrate." Zevran purred, giving a short nod in response. Laeti tapped her chin, no HIS chin for a moment, thinking for a time on how the look could be imitated. Zevran rolled his eyes, certain that she had given up on it entirely, though amused to see her attempt. In truth, it was really quite good, dripping with lust and such.

He kept his features clear of emotion, though the corner of his lip quirked in a short, smirking sort of smile.

"Something like that." Laeti waved a hand, giving up on it, certain that she had done it incorrectly due to the impartial look on his face. Interested, she glanced to that knowing smile of his, "What are you smiling like that about? Last time you smiled like that at me, I found out my armor was see through."

"You realize I am in your body, yes?" Zevran's smile only grew larger.

"Yeah, and..?" Laeti raised a curious eyebrow. Around him, it was easy to forget what waited for her when she rested her head. With him, she had a short break from the Blight and all of it's concerns.

"It seems that you enjoy that look more then you care to admit."

Laeti flushed a bright shade, immediately denying it rather loudly, which only seemed to make matters worse, that grin of his spreading, Zevran took to teasing her a new, and noting to himself that perhaps she wasn't as immune to his charms as he'd thought.

Perhaps she was denying it so willfully.

The two couldn't deny the other had chemistry for themselves, especially as they now saw it first hand. But still, they could certainly deny that they themselves were in love. Rather easily in fact.

_I'm not the one in love, that's ridiculous. They're the one in love!_

Each thought in the same moment, their single thought twisting together and speaking loudly together across both stubborn minds.


	13. We Never Change

-Then-

"What do you mean you can't lockpick?" Alistair stated in bewilderment. The newly met Dalish woman before him gave a half shrug, her red hair setting in her back in the movement. "Were you under the impression that it is an art the Dalish teach one another? Or that I am a criminal?" Laeti gave a rather confused look. Alistair flustered for words, "Well, I just thought that all rouges had a grasp on lock picking..!"

"Can you lift Morrigan as a bear above your head?" Laeti's confused features split into a smirky sort of grin as she raised an eyebrow to Alistair. Morrigan scoffed, crossing her arms, "A question that will not soon be answered." Alistair looked at Morrigan, picturing that petite little witch before him as the rather large and fiercly ravenous beast that towered over him as he fought beside it, a mountain of bloodied fur and toned muscle.

"Nope. Not if my life depended on it. You've seen her, she's HUGE." Alistair allowed with a tall gesture with his arms stretching to the open sky, palms flat to the powdery soil beneath their feet. The sun baked the back of Laeti's neck as she shook with with-held and silent laughter, Morrigan, on the other hand, was less then impressed with his antics, using her shape shifting abilities, she morphed her voice into a deep bear growl as she intimidatingly roared across the path at Alistair, the noise seeming out of place on her dark haired and small frame. The noise startled the ex templar, alarming him on many levels as he dropped his arms to his sides as he retreated a pace from the witch that was seated on the firmly locked chest before them.

"Most warriors would be able to, don't you think?" Laeti prompted, surprisingly not unsettled in the slightest by the sudden roar from Morrigan. Morrigan gave a smug sort of look, crossing her legs, the iron caste of the chest below her chilling the exposed skin at the end of her long black shirt of rags and strips of leather and such materials. "I'm not sure what warriors you USUALLY see, if you think that's one of our traits, but I see your point." Alistair concluded, nodding slightly in admittance.

All three of the group's members found their gaze falling to the old and dusty chest before them. In truth, it was nearly a matter of pride, it seemed to be admitting defeat, allowing the chest to have bested themselves and to turn their backs to it in continuation of their journey to Lothering. Alternatively, curiousity burned inside the core of all three, though they all knew that nothing of immediate interest awaited to sate the curiosity that over took the small group.

"Besides, I'm sure that there are other methods to open a mysteriously locked chest in the middle of a deserted trade path.." Laeti mused beneath her breath, shooing Morrigan from the top of the chest as she leaned over it slightly, interested in the sturdy framework and the firm lock. "Morrigan, I don't suppose you have a spell that would work here?" Laeti pondered aloud, turning to Morrigan. Morrigan gave a sarcastic laugh, shaking her head, "Not one that would leave the contents intact."

"What, you can't just freeze the lock, or something?" Alistair smirked ever so slightly, it quite appeared that he enjoyed pressing on Morrigan's nerves. Looking over sharply, Morrigan growled between her teeth as a bear once more, "A frozen lock is still a lock, fool."

"Halam sahlin! Stop your bickering! Hamin.." Laeti shook her head slightly, her breath heavy with exhaustion from the constant bickering that seemed to follow at her heels ever since the small group had left the wilderness at their backs. So little of it bringing a smile to her lips, and as time wore on, simply wore upon her frayed nerves.

She was a leader.

And she didn't want to be. No, not at all. But, no one else would do it. Laeti couldn't help but feel as though her leadership would lead the many of them into trouble. It was.. Wrong, to have others depend on her word, though she did enjoy that her words and opinions now held sway, that was only when the decisions she made turned out as she desired them to. She could almost taste the coming defeat on her tongue when there would come a day when her actions would harm those dear to her.

She knew she would fail.

But, while Alistair had so gladly dropped the responsibilty on herself, suggestions and such were quickly given when Laeti faultered, and it was in that sense that she trusted those around her. Perhaps with them, she would not fail so terribly.

"Mmm... Ah, I have an idea! Alistair, if you will?" Laeti trailed off, gesturing towards the chest, that, while being of iron framework, had a rather flimsy looking wood as a base. Alistair gave a short nod, raising this short sword in his hand, the shield balanced in his other hand as he widened his stance slightly. Raising his arm and swung downwards upon the chest's lid with a heavy grunt of effort and great speed as Morrigan stepped back quite a few more paces then necessary from Alistair, untrusting to the methods selected and the ex templars idiocies.

-Now-

"But you're an ASSASSIN!" Laeti emphasized the word assassin quite clearly, expression bewildered and merely inches from the blonde elven one that stroked her features with his honeyed gaze. "Your point being..?" Zevran purred back challengingly, his warm breath touching on her cheek. Laeti's pale blue eyes which he knew from experience that would have widened at such an act in the past, remained stone faced and ill amused in her arguementative state.

Oh how tense she was, if only she would allow another Antivan Massage of his..

But, no, she wouldn't hear of it after the way the last one had ended. Such a shame, he couldn't seem to get it out of his mind in the slightest. She had only allowed him such a short tantalizing taste, the little minx.

"My point being, you're a criminal! Are you trying to tell me that you NEVER learned how to lock pick?" Laeti crossed her arms over her chest, shifting her weight slightly between her feet in annoyance. Zevran gave her an indulgent look, smirking gently to himself condescendingly, "That is precisely what I am saying, yes. Did you expect otherwise?"

"But you're an ASSASSIN!" Laeti stated the point again, much to Zevran bewilderment.

"And we're back to that!" He threw his hands up exasperatedly "I was not often on the other side of the locked door, my dear warden." Zevran expressed blantedly, as he often did, much to Laeti's misfortune, and she gave a half groan, face palming with splayed fingers. "Zevran, have you ever thought how GRAPHIC what you're saying is?" She managed aloud.

"It has truly never crossed my mind before, my beautiful warden." Zevran's smirk turned flirtatious, a sultry tone sneaking into his voice. Laeti's eyes widened deliciously, the pale blue sparkling with a flattered light. "Stop calling me that." She muttered shortly, though her expression seemed to paint an entirely different picture. One with more vivid colors, it would seem.

Oh, when had he started to stand to close? Feeling his warm, exotically scented breath on her cheek distracted her once the bafflement of the argument subsided. "What? Beautiful? Surely you must be accustomed to it by now, my dear! I refuse to believe that you have not been told such by every man you have stricken dumb with your ravishing looks!" Zevran breathed, stepping forwards, forwardly resting a hand on her hip, fingers ghosting over the cold leather.

Ah, there was the reaction he'd been craving. Right there, just behind the eyes, rather quickly it spread on her features in a sense of flattered and flustered light.

Laeti flustered brightly, picking up his tanned hands at the wrists and returning them to his sides. "Hands to yourself. And no, men don't tend to notice me."

"Or it could be that YOU fail to notice THEM, yes?" Zevran hummed lightly, eyes drinking in that ever so slightly rising hue on her cheeks, her fingertips lingering on his wrists a moment before she returned them to her sides with a thought.

Ah yes, so it HAD been physical attraction from her part when he had been so unwillingly trapped in her body.

He'd started to doubt himself.. How well she hid it!

Mm, but not anymore. He knew what to look for in this one.

Laeti waved the comment away, though bashfully wondering to herself just if that was indeed the case. Perhaps it would explain why quite a few of the men around her seemed to make fools of themselves as she passed by.. As well as quite a few dalish friends of the past that had suddenly taken to babbling and stammering as soon as she had developed her curves of age..

"Well, since I had been under the impression you could lock pick, I didn't bring Leliana with us. I suppose we'll have to resort to some old methods." Laeti mused aloud, turning to see her group before her eyes. Morrigan, Zevran and Sten had chosen to accompany her on the short scouting expedition, though only Morrigan and herself knew just what she spoke of.

"And just what methods would those be, my dear warden? Shall you try your hand at the fine art that is lockpicking?" Zevran gave a smirky sort of grin, honeyed eyes catching and holding her own pale eyes for a moment before her lips pulled themselves into an ironic grin, setting her hands on her hips with an amused flash in her features.

"Sten, if you would be so kind?"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note - Realizing that many of you are not dalish, I think I'll include a translation of what Laeti has said. <strong>

**Halam sahlin! - This ends now!**

**Hamin - Relax..**


	14. Physical Attraction

The smell of exotic flavors rose through the air, much to Laeti's interest. Yawning tiredly, the red haired elven woman ducked out of the tent, the cloth flap settling at her back animatedly as her red strands of silken hair settled down her back, curling to her waist. Even in her half awake stupor, she'd slipped on her armor, savoring the lack of pain the movement and dalish origin armor had upon her now completely healed back. Her misty blue eyes were still shaded with exhaustion from unrelenting and unmerciful nightmares, blinking at the stunningly bright light before her tired eyes that was the world before her.

Zevran rolled a dagger in his fingers, expertly slicing an orange sphere in his palm into halves. White seeds and pulp decorated the deeply orange flesh on the interior, the scent washing over the group a new as the juices dribbled down his finger tips. "Ah, good morning, my dear sleepy Warden. I must say, you look quite adorable in the morning." Zevran purred in that accent of his that had Laeti shifting her weight slightly between her feet, rather hoping that he didn't hear the thundering that became her pulse.

"Mm... Not cute." Laeti stretched her arms, closing her eyes as the muscles pulled taunt against her sore frame. Zevran smirked, absently slicing a thin slice of the orange fruit in his hand, white designs decorating the pulp like flesh. "If you'll recall, dear warden, I did not say 'cute', yes?" Picking up the thin crescent like slice between two tanned fingers, he held it out to the red headed elf, tantalizingly close before her lips.

Laeti sleepily blinked his way, leaning back in surprise. "Zevran, it's to early for this..." the woman scolded lightly, raising her hands nervously, her palms to him and fingers splayed, expressively lingering by her fine features. "I think you'll find that it is the early afternoon." Zevran stated with a short nod upwards to the ever so bright smear of light in the center of the sky.

The woman tilted her head back, wincing at the eager onslaught of pain and blinding light, her hands dropping slightly in her surprise. "I never sleep in this late!" She mumbled in surprise, unshockingly, she was rather slow to wake entirely, something he attributed to being from lack of proper sleep throughout the entire endeavor that she lead them through. "You asked Wynne to give you something to help you to sleep through the night, it seems it was more effective then she thought." Zevran reminded her, still holding out the crescent orange fruit to her lips insistently.

"Now be a dear and say Ah."

"Excuse me? That line works for you?" She growled back grumpily, turning her attention back towards him, and eying the offered fruit. "More often then you seem to think. But this isn't that. Try it." Zevran prompted insistently, much to Laeti's interest as to what he had meant by such a comment, while she herself had asked something seemingly unrelated

Naturally, it was Zevran, so it wasn't clean, of that much she was certain.

"What IS it?" Laeti raised an eyebrow, her features still decorated with drowsiness. Zevran lowered his arm, bringing the sliced fruit to his own lips as he bit into it juicily, looking at Laeti deliberately "It's an orange. A common fruit in everywhere except Fereldon, it would seem. I was rather surprised to see that Bodhan had a few for sale." Wincing at the flavor, Zevran lowered the drained fruit from his lips, the bright orange outside skin of the fruit left untouched. "Naturally, its taste leaves much to be desired." He admitted.

Laeti's bare feet shifted slightly, the powdery wet soil trickling over her pale skin. Once again, a strange expression spilled over her features as she pursed her lips, tearing her gaze away from the tantalizingly teasing expression he wore, and the so distracting fleck of juice on his chin.

Oh damn it.. Hoping he would not notice, Laeti once again shifted her weight on her feet, wincing slightly at the undeniable attraction.

"Something wrong, warden?" Zevran purred, a wide, smug expression covering his features as he lifted a thumb, wiping away the droplets of orange juice from his skin. "Something I could help you with, perhaps?" Zevran brought his tanned thumb to his lips, eagerly licking away the last of the orange.

Laeti covered her features with her hands, pulling her lips back in a grimace, ears dropping low behind her red hair. "You.. You're doing that on purpose." Laeti accused. Zevran smirked openly, "It is possible. You, however, failed to answer my question, could it be that our dear, innocent warden is finally desiring to indulge her desires?"

"Woah, HEY!" Laeti lifted her features from the safety of her hands, looking at him with wide eyes. "In the middle of camp is NOT an appropriate place to even JOKE about that." Laeti scolded, much to Zevran's playful interest. "Just who said I was joking, my dear warden?" His tone colored lustful and painted in every shade of desire.

"I say that you were joking." Laeti mumbled, her lingering drowsiness having left her entirely upon his antics of late. "Besides, what makes you think that I even HAVE desires with YOU in them?" Laeti muttered back, while she fought back said desires with a rather large, mental stick.

"I thought this was not an appropriate place to speak on that subject, yes? Regardless, as I continue to remind you, I was in your body, I know said attractions you have quite.. Intimately." Zevran pointed out, cleanly slicing another thin crescent portion of the orange in his palm with the dagger, purposefully making the movement deliberate and slow.

"That was.. Oh.. Maybe that was just your attractions DESPITE being in my body." She growled in response, childishly sticking out her tongue to him. Zevran gave a short laugh, "No, I assure you that I can tell the difference, my dear warden. Your antics only solidify it." He simply couldn't resist indulging her, childishly sticking out his tongue as well to the slightly shorter Dalish before him.

"Besides," He continued, smirking as he gestured to her with the hand the orange rested upon. "Your ears give you away when you lie."

"They do not." Laeti insisted, her sensitive elven ears partially hidden by the strands of glorious red. "Hold this, and I'll show you, yes?" Zevran took one of her hands, placing the half orange and remaining second half in the palm of it. In the other, he slipped the dagger, still shining brightly in the early afternoon sun. Giving a coy smile before once again offering the thin slice of the orange tantalizingly close to her lips, the flesh touching her lip ever so slightly. Laeti parted her lips slightly in surprise, blinking a moment before obliging, opening her mouth widely and leaning forwards slightly, taking the crescent between her teeth as she had seen him do it, the rind of the orange showing between her parted lips.

Dusting his now free hands off on the cloth of his armor, he dried his fingertips before reaching out and brushing her long red hair from her ears with both hands tenderly. Bunching the locks of fire in his hand, he lifted the strands from her ears and neck entirely, ever so cleverly finding an excuse to stand close to her, her body just barely touching his.

"There, now try to lie." Zevran prompted, a wicked grin on his features as he leaned forwards, whispering such a short phrase into her ear. Elven ears were surprisingly sensitive, in fact, so tender that an elf could perish from wounds sustained on them. Thus, it was not all that surprising that her own ear twitched reflexively on his breath. Reaching up the hand that held the knife, she pushed the rind of the orange out of her mouth with her tongue, closing two fingers around it in her hand as she relaxed the drained fruit into her palm.

Feeling rather overwhelmed with the close proximity of the man before her, her furious crush, as well as the physical attraction that may or may not have belonged to her were coupled with the new and bristling taste on her tongue. "Hmm? Oh, well.. I'm taller then you." She managed aloud with a significant effort.

True to his words, her slightly lengthened sharply ended ears leaned lower down, moving as if cat like in appearance. Chuckling, Zevran reluctantly drew his hands back from behind the woman, releasing the fiery strands from between his fingers with an effort.

How strange, he'd never been so tempted to kiss a woman before. To desire her to want him to such a degree. To NEED her to desire him..

"I would not have to be right to know that is a lie." Zevran scolded lightly, shaking his head slightly, clicking his tongue softly. "Yes, well, you asked for a lie." Laeti pressed the remainder of the orange into his hands as well as the dagger before, rather flusteradly, she turned her back to him, striding away so quickly and blushedly that she managed to trip on a stone on the way to the fire side.

A deep red settling on her features, Laeti sat beside the fireside, leaning forwards and absently bringing life to the dying fire below her fingertips. Eager to return to something that was recognizable to herself once again. "I'm going mad. I really am. Insanity is imminent. I can FEEL it.. COMING." She gestured with open palms, making a surging motion with her hands as she sat back beside Alistair.

"I probably sound mad, don't I?" She sighed deeply, rubbing her head with the palms of her hands as she settled her elbows on her knees, leaning forwards slightly with a miserable groan. With a sigh, she dropped her hands into her lap, raising her features to her human friend Alistair. "Do you think I'm mad?"

Alistair gave a wide grin, an orange rind between his teeth and replacing his smile.


	15. Mistaken Advice

"Alistair?" Laeti glanced to her side, the dim light of the evening shimmering between the rustling branches over head. The ever wet dirt beneath her worn boots left a nostalgic smile on her features, glancing down at the ground, turning the dirt with the tip of a worn boot for a moment. Oh, she could recall a time when the damp nature of Fereldon struck her as offensive. Struck her as an injustice.

She'd been different then.

Now, she savored the change in her mind, supposing the damp soil was such a lovely shade. The wet, sticky texture lost upon the cloth of her boots. Without a thought, Laeti turned, leaning her weight upon the rough bark of a looming tree that stretched to the sky. Shades of green danced above the outstretched branches above the pair's head, sunlight dancing across the woman's features as she lifted her right boot, unlacing it in her fingertips.

"At your service." Alistair gave a warm sort of smile her way, "What are you doing there?" He wondered aloud, watching her movements for a moment.

"Oh, it's a.." She chuckled slightly, her long red hair settling down the front of her dalish armor. She turned the right boot in her hand, the heel of the muddied boot smearing her palm as her barefoot touched the ground once more. "It's a.. Long story." Laeti allowed after a moment's pause, lifting her other boot to her eager fingertips. Untying the laces, she lifted the boot from her bare foot, holding the pair of boots in one hand and to the side.

"I have a question, if you don't mind?" Laeti lifted her gaze to his, red strands of hair drifting from her pointed ears and touched her beautiful features. Alistair was striken by her radiance in the shimmering light, the hues of the dancing gleams of green that swayed in the wind suited her wild nature so well it was breath taking.

"Of course." He managed, nodding his head absently, a friendly smile taking place on his handsome features. Laeti lifted a hand, tucking her red hair behind her pointed ear with a silken, well rehearsed movement as she walked down the path once more, the man keeping pace at her side as she led him down a path only she knew.

Memories danced before her eyes as her feet found a path she'd long since travelled, leading from a now abandoned shemlen city, long lost to the oncoming darkspawn horde. Smiling slightly, she turned her features to him, they'd chosen to exchange the cumbersome party for a smaller group to scout. While Laeti had decided to find the Sabrae dalish clan with a party of elves, so as to ease the immanent tension. However, Zevran had taken to.. Playing upon her desires once again.

She didn't have the will in herself to keep herself fighting him for long. The desire to simply let it go, to allow her morals to slide for such a basic and enveloping, foreign one as lust was over taking her. She didn't trust herself around him.

Laeti needed to keep herself from his company.

Or she'd lose it all.

Zevran, well, he hadn't been keen on the idea, not in the slightest. Arguing with her, and when that failed, proceeded to give her a look that very much resembled puppy dog eyes. A tactic that, to his recollection, worked immensly well with any and every woman of his past. As well as a fair amount of men, but, typically, those desired to go down.. Different routes. Laeti, however, found herself immune if she simply tilted her head back, covered her eyes with a hand, and told him to remain at camp.

He hadn't counted on her saying no.

Laeti felt strange without him at her side, sparkling her days with his wit and humour. Flattering her form with compliments and unending interest to herself that while strange to herself, she found herself pleased to be appreciated in such a sense. She desired his company. And he craved hers.

They needed to seperate.

"In camp earlier, you explained you were raised in a Chantry.." Laeti started, searching for the right words. Alistair had explained his upbringing the night prior, explaining the human religion of the Chantry. They were something of a holy place, a sacred place of standing. It would make sense that lust was forbidden there. But, that wasn't what she needed to know.

She needed advice when one found themselves in love.

Laeti had never been in love before.

"I mean, if you were raised in a Chantry, have you never..?" Laeti started once again, but soon found herself at a loss for words. Admitting that she was in love to herself, was far more easy then admitting she was in love out loud. Alistair, alternatively, found it rather cute how she pronounced the word that so easily rose from other's tongues. Her tongue strained to form the correct pronounciation as he'd so casually said at camp, but found it near impossible.

Alistair didn't have the heart to tell her it wasn't pronounced Chin-tri, but rather, Chant-ry. Besides, he found it cute!

"Never..? Never what? Had a good pair of shoes?" Alistair smirked, eyes falling to her muddied and bare feet that curled at the toes, seemingly savoring the texture of the damp dirt beneath them. Not for the first time he wondered if he'd missed something.

Laeti turned her features towards the ground, pursing her lips tightly. "You know what I mean.." She managed, teeth chewing on the inside of her lip softly. Alistair tilted his head slightly, seeking to hold her features in his own, curious just what he'd missed. Perhaps he hadn't missed anything, she was merely shy on the matter!

"I'm not sure I do. Have I never.. Seen a basalisk? Ate jellied ham? Have I never licked a lampost in winter?" Alistair coaxed with a warm grin that was truly, all his own. Laeti rolled her eyes, turning her eyes to him with a hint of a smile on her lips.

"Now you're making fun of me!" Laeti's smile only spread, tilting her head to him, entertaiment flashing through her eyes that belonged to the forest around herself.

"Make fun of you, dear lady? Perish the thought!" Alistair spread his arms in a gesture of mock horror, lying his hand over his heart exaggeratedly with a spreading grin. "Well, tell me, have YOU ever LICKED a LAMPOST in WINTER?" He spoke clearly, emphasis sprinkled on the sentence in a purring, lustous tone that, in it's rarity, rivaled Zevran's.

Laeti tapped her chin once in thought, fingertips pushing at her chin's skin a moment. "Just once, I got my tongue stuck." She recalled, nodding her head once. She'd travelled with one of the traders to the shemlen settlement outside the Brecilian forest, where, upon a dare from Tamlen, found herself standing beside a frozen pole for several hours, with Tamlen laughing his ass off beside her before they'd concocted a method in which to free herself.

"Just the one? And you didn't lose half your tongue in the process? I'm impressed." Alistair laughed aloud, playing on the joke a moment longer before turning to her as they walked on, following her lead. "I, myself, have never had the PLEASURE." Oh hell, now she thought he was gay! "Not that I hadn't thought about it.. But, you know.." Alistair fumbled for words, before inwardly face palming. Oh great, now he sounded like some day dreaming man slut!

"Never met the right person?" Laeti found herself relating well to Alistair, neither of them had done such, Zevran approved actions. Though, it sounded like he was the only one that craved it.. No, she craved it as well, she couldn't lie about that, not to herself. Oh, her mind was such a mess! Alistair, being of the human species, was forbidden fruit in every sense of the word. The fact that she spoke to him, that she desired his company for companionship, that she called him a friend was enough for exhile from her clan.

Dalish simply didn't call humans friends. Much less, what he craved from her.

It wasn't something personal, it wasn't something cruel on her part, she'd been raised to believe in the simple, straight fact that bonding with those of the same gender was not productive, was selfish. That humans, Shemlen, were distateful and cruel, nothing to give a lingering glance upon. Tattoos upon features marked availability, and age, paininting the scene for Zevran to be the only in her entire party to be able to confuse her mind with such simple flirts and manipulations.

The only one to possibly be able to be more then a friend.

But, that was ridiculous. He didn't live by the Dalish ways, bonding was nothing sacred to him, nothing to even notice for longer then the night, in fact.

"Well, living in the chantry, is.. Not exactly a life for rambunctious boys. They taught me to be a gentleman, especially in the presence of a beautiful woman such as yourself. That's not so bad, is it?" Alistair called her attention from her thoughts, and she long found her original question of the matter of crushes lost to the wind.

"Mm, yes. Barefoot and bloodstained. The new attractive." Laeti scoffed lightly, turning her disbeliving features to Alistair with a raised eyebrow. She.. Simply didn't feel beautiful. She felt nervous, bringing a Shemlen ally to her old clan. The one that still remembered her as she was. Before she'd changed. Before she'd lost Tamlen to her own stupidity.

Before she'd woken up. Before she'd stopped looking to the larger picture, and had simply taken days one step at a time, one person at a time.

One life at a time.

She'd never sacrifice others again, for the sake of others.

She'd never harm those unarmed.

She'd never harm innocents for the sake of the larger image. She knew now. The larger image was made up of the smaller acts, the smaller people. They were just as important.

"Of course you're beautiful! And you know it." Alistair gave an affectionate smile, "You're ravishing, resourceful, and all those other things you'd probably hurt me for not saying."

Laeti blinked from her flattered flush, looking to Alistair with a thoughtful look. Puzzled as to why in the world that thought that she would harm him for his opinion even crossed his mind. "I would never harm you." Laeti spoke slowly, purposefully.

"Nor I you." Alistair smiled warmly, speaking the unending truth of the matter.

"I, on the other hand, might." A voice purred from behind them, and to the pair's notice, it belonged to a woman adorn with black tattooes of a mischivious nature curling on her features. The woman had her hands upon her hips, a large sword upon her back, standing as tall as she herself. Dalish make armor of intricate design and mobility flashed a moment of recognition on the pair's minds.

Alistiar, while having heard that the Dalish were unwelcome to humans, widened his stance slightly, ready for an attack, or at the very least demands for the removal of armor and weaponry. Laeti, on the other hand, threw her head back, grinning wide.

"Naei!" She called out happily, eager to remeet a friend of the past. Naei gave a wolfish sort of grin, her long black hair twisted in wild braids down her back. Giving a wink to Laeti, her smile only spread.

"Aneth ara, Laeti. Now tell me, what is it I've missed in your absence, dear Warden?"


	16. Introduction To Madness

"And, most importantly, why is it you travel with a Shemlen, Laeti?" Naei growled with a watching eye to Alistair. Laeti waved a hand, finger tips spread, "Hamin, Naei. Be kind to him, if you have a problem with Alistair, you're not going to enjoy meeting the rest of my traveling party!" Laeti laughed lightly, her fingers loosely holding the fabric of her pairs of boots, wet mud sticking to the heels and falling in clumps randomly by her bare feet.

Naei raised a slow eyebrow, glancing to Alistair with a worried look.

"That does not sound promising." Naei grimaced, her short black hair ever so slightly falling into her tattooed features in short and messy strands. The large blade that neared her own body size shifted on her back as she rested her hands upon her hips.

The plan had been originally for Laeti to bring the only other elf in her party, to seek out her Dalish clan and, if the treaties were easily acknowledged, return to her own larger party within a fortnight. Alternatively, had there arisen a dire need for her party once more, she would set aside her reluctance and return to find her larger party.

At Naei's word of arising trouble, Laeti soon discovered that it was to be the latter of the subjects. It seemed that there was something amiss in the Sabrae clan since she had left, and from her experiences with the other treaties, Laeti knew for absolute, unwavering certainty, that it meant absolutely no good.

"So, let me get this straight." Naei found herself in the camp of Laeti's traveling party, surrounded by seemingly random races and mindsets. "You're the flat eared failed assassin, who's tried to kill the very woman you mercilessly flirt with constantly?" Naei muttered aloud, looking at the elf that stood a fair head taller then her. His skin was tanned, with a black tattoo of no meaning curling down the side of his smirking features.

"Ex assassin." Zevran clarified, his strange accent unfamiliar and strange to Naei. Laeti, on the other hand, found herself drawn to it, and with a conscious effort she kept the raging blush and undeniable attraction under control, pressing her lips tightly as the only indication of her VERY Zevran approved thought processes.

"Failed, none the less." Naei shot him a coy sort of smirk, turning her attention towards the next before her. "And you, the Qunari who can't seem to understand why the elves exist." Sten stood before the smaller elf, and gave a stern look, marking his attitude as ever.

"The elves should have fought to the last of themselves when the humans invaded."

"Then we'd all be dead." Naei answered shortly, turning her gaze onwards. "And you, you're the shemlen witch successor of Asha'belannar." Morrigan snorted derisively. "Successor implies that she has met her death. And, seeing as her mantle is a hut in the middle of the woods, I shall not succeed her after she does meet her end."

"Planning for your dear mother's death already. Talk about family problems." Naei turned to the red haired human before here, Leliana, who had been uneasy with the entire situation of allowing Laeti to leave with Alistair, simply because of the previous instance, where she had arrived an inch from death, found herself relieved to see both before her, unharmed. "You're the hallucinating chantry sheen with a lute for a weapon?"

"It was NOT a hallucination, and I am no longer of the Chantry." Leliana clarified, pointedly releasing her hold on her lute, lying it against Laeti's tent at a thought. Crouching down, Naei rubbed her fingers over top of the painted fur of the mabari, Bumu. Bumu, who savored any sort of attention, barked madly and rolled upon his back, looking up at the new comer adoringly.

"And you, you're the return to life by a flower, trouble making mabari." Naei received a conversationally toned bark for her troubles. "You're the immortal hunk of rock who despises birds, right?" Naei turned to Shale, standing, wet dirt clinging to her bare knees. Her dalish armor shifted with her movement.

"It believes that it has a sense of humour to call me such. Or stupidity." Shale gave a careless sort of shrug. Zevran gave Laeti a look, shifting his weight slightly to lean more into her personal space, lowering his lips by her ears with a conniving look and impulse. "So, how is it you know the woman interrogating our companions?" Laeti blinked, a red hue starting in her cheeks, but, disappointingly enough, she fought it back with a seemingly unending will.

"Naei and I, we've been friends since we could walk. Literally, it's how we met. She came from city elves moving into our clan, and the clan's Dalish children picked on her for it. To prove that she was not weak as they claimed-" Laeti started, then stopped with a pause, she turned her head to Zevran slightly as he rested his chin on her shoulder softly. "No offense." Zevran waved a hand, it took a bit more then that to really offend him, after all, and he was interested to hear how they met. "Anyway, she picked me up over her shoulder, and kept walking. Wouldn't set me down for a long time to prove her point." Laeti explained.

Zevran honeyed eyes, which were perfectly content to appreciate every detail of her occupied features left her face as he stepped back, holding his stomach and roaring with laughter. Simply the idea of it had him stricken with a sense of absurdity and laughter disproportionate to the joke told.

Laeti was less then amused, resting her hands on her hips in disapproval. Naei turned her attention to the pair, only to find the once laughing elf seemed to nearly stop immediately when Laeti dosed him with a subtle elbow to the stomach. Regardless, a few chuckles seemed to slip out of his guard every so often.

"You're the Shemlen mage from the circle, I take it?" Naei glanced to Wynne, who merely gave a slight nod in truth. "We prefer human as a term, you know." She started in the smooth, and as Alistair described it, nearly grand motherly tone of voice that she had. Often times, throughout camp, it would get Wynne her way in many accounts, it being more of an interest if it did not.

Nothing put young adventurers back in line, like a dose of reality, or a grandmother who knew the best of the situation, or both in the same moment, as Wynne so often found herself the master of weaving into one, simple sentence of blunt force.

"Yeah, and we elves don't enjoy being called 'knife ears', sounds like neither race gets what they want today." Naei rubbed her head with her palms, unaffected by the tone of Wynne's voice to a forward degree. She'd never had something for maternal figures, and a total stranger taking the tone with her was not helping matters.

Oh, how did Laeti find herself in the company of such an odd group?

Not for the first time, Naei worried for Laeti, and giving the group another scanning look, she groaned inwardly. What sort of people was she traveling with now? What sort of person was she now a days? She'd changed so quickly, so fast just after the incident with Tamlen. Something that still remained fixably hazy to the knowledge of the clan, an instance in which no one could extract details from the hysterical woman before she'd disappeared with the shemlen grey warden, Duncan.

Oghren, being ever the drunk dwarf, strode past the new elf, an unopened bottle of unlabeled alcoholic contents held tight in his hand. "You're the drunk casteless dwarf, yes? Can I borrow that?" Oghren held the bottle up, and with a sure hand she unstopped the cork and swallowed down a fair portion of the strong alcohol with a toss of the head. Significantly buzzed, she corked it and passed it back with a nod of gratitude.

That was better.

As the group retrod the path that Alistair and Laeti and wandered down, Laeti found herself with her usual Antivan shadow at her side. If she forgot the fact he was trying to bed her, and thus that was the only reason he was devoting ANY sort of attention to her, if she forgot for a moment how often she nearly gave up on her Dalish morals and roots in exchange for his arms around her.

She could perhaps come to say that she missed his companionship.

Otherwise.. It would be petty and childish.. right?

"So, Naei, you're-" Alistair started, keeping pace behind Laeti and Zevran, and to his side striding with a purpose was Naei. Said woman smirked beneath her breath, looking forwards settedly, "Naei. You pronounced my name wrong. It's not 'nay-ei' it's 'Naei.' "Alistair gave a sheepish sort of smile, "right, sorry, I've just, never heard any name like it. No practice, and all that."

After several attempts to her name, Naei simply turned her head to him, eyes sparkling with a slight fondness and her lips decorated with a brilliant smile. "Just call me Ni."

**-Author's Note-**

**Naei told Alistair to call her Ni, and in my head canon, I don't think that Dalish would appreciate humans giving them nicknames or mispronouncing their names. So, it's a bit of foreshadowing there.**


	17. Within Reach

"This is like my home in Seheron. But the fiends here are only monsters." Sten concluded, turning his stern gaze to the shivering leaves that hung low from the stretching branches. To his eye there was no well travelled paths to follow, through the two dalish elves walking in front of the group seemed to follow the soil's markings as if there was. Naei turned to Laeti questioningly, to which the red headed woman simply raised both shoulders slowly in unspoken bafflement.

Oghren gave an echoing sneeze that shook his short body, spittle sticking to his beard. "All this greenery is making me sick." He growled foul temperedly. Naei raised an eyebrow in challenge, turning around and striding backwards with a smooth transition. "And I'm sure you have the same effect to the greenery."

Laeti glanced over her shoulder as she strode, knowing the path by heart from long ago. Her heavy green cloak of plain design hung from her frame in bulky shapes, moving in large stiffness as her body shifted. "Not all of us live under mountains, Oghren."

"Ain't that a sodding shame." Oghren mumbled back drunkly, stumbling with the misplacement of booted feet below him in the haze that was the world before him. "Ah, more forest. And here I thought we left the wilds for good." Morrigan sneered with dislike, kicking up a clump of wet dirt with the tip of her boot idly.

"A human who doesn't like the forest. Stunning." Naei mocked a stunned gasp, walking on. Laeti turned her attention back towards the scenery around her, drawing within herself in silent contomplation of the past. In truth, she dreaded the moment her feet touched the ground of the camp that still lingered in an area it should have left from months ago. She actively feared the moment her new party, her friends and comrades, people she would trust with her life. She feared the moment they knew she was nothing that she ever claimed to be.

Laeti wasn't a good person.

Flinching inwardly at her thoughts as they cut deeply into herself, she raised a shaking hand, pulling her heavy hood over her features. Red hair clung to the back of her neck in a cluster, the shadow of the hood lying over her eyes and darkening her view of the world.

Zevran watched with interested eyes, it seemed as though their dear warden was hiding something. Through his marks he'd learned to read others as if they were made of glass, emotions just inside and eager for his eyes. The hood.. It presented a challenge, but as far as he could tell, she only desired it when she felt her emotions were to close to bubbling to the surface, to easy for another to see.

It seemed to happen the most when the topic of previous friendships and comrades came up in casual conversation. Or the moment questions were turned to her about her past. Though, she seemed eager enough to speak of her Dalish clan, she never spoke in specifics. And truly a rare occurance was the mention of a name. Naei, well she was interesting, intriquing. Zevran knew for certain the moment Laeti had her back to him on warden matters he would press Naei for mentions of Laeti.

If she wasn't willing to tell the stories, certainly someone was.

Striding over with the confidence of a child that knew his crimes would be scolded, and yet, ever so confidently dared her to do so. Who knew? He may have even like it. Smirking to himself, he took pace beside her, and upon a cunning impulse strode in front of her, walking backwards as silkenly as a preying cat. Leaning his head down slightly, he tilted his fine features to hers, seeking her expressions that so lightened the tone of his day.

"Hiding, are you?" Zevran purred, a wide and playful grin spreading across his features.

Expressively, she blinked in surprise, the sound of rustling fabric ringing through the soft and short space between the two as her ears moved lower behind the hood. Her darkened features seemed surprised for a moment, the last touch of sorrow still hanging upon her eyes before she masked it with a heavy thought.

"Am not." She retorted her sweet breath touching his cheek. Zevran's smile faded, and was replaced by a badly hidden searching expression. Just what had her so upset?

"Are to." He argued back childishly without a hint of a pause, only his eyes showing the worry that over took him with such a strong, shaking to the core spirit. Keeping pace in front of her, he purposefully slowed his backwards steps, bringing her closer for a short moment before she slowed her own as well. Reaching out a hand, his tanned finger tips touched her bare skin with a gentle graze.

"Hey." He started, trying a reassuring smile. "What's wrong?" His brow furrowed slightly with expression, fingertips dragging themselves tenderly down the side of her flushed features. Laeti opened her mouth to speak, thought better of it, and closed it reluctantly, lips pressing together.

"Well, I have this Antivan walking backwards in front of me. Highly distracting." She quipped with a fake sort of smile, the sorrow he'd glimpsed at for a single moment long hidden away. Silently, she drew her bottom lip between her teeth, a white canine visible as it pressed into flesh. Tracing his fingers from her cheek, his pace slowed with hers before they were simply standing, bodies so close but just barely not touching. His thumb wandered to the skin of her chin, gently pulling downwards to softly tug the flesh from between her teeth.

"Tell me the truth." He pressed, watching her with his honeyed eyes, a short wind whirling around the pair, rustling her heavy cloak ever so slightly in it's folds. Laeti gave a slight pause, eyes wandering from his for the briefest of moments. Moving his own head to the side he purposefuly refound her gaze. Laeti took a breath, as if steeling herself for a confession of magnitude, spreading her lips without a sound, as she breathed in after a moment's pause. "I-"

".. I should have stayed in that cage.." Sten brought the two back into reality firmly with the stern tone of his voice and annoyed look as he gazed at the two figures far behind the rest of the group. Laeti flushed brightly and raised a hand, closing her soft fingers around his wrist and removing his fingertips from her skin, eletricity sizzled just under her skin, her hands shaking with energy as she dropped his tanned skin with an effort.

So close.. Zevran sighed inwardly, rolling his eyes annoyedly as he turned his body to catch up with the others. Laeti moved forwards just as his trailing foot twisted to turn his body the entire way. The result being that she tripped into him, who, easily caught her weight with a grunt. Compensating, he stumbled back slightly, tripping over a root connected to a tree stretching high into the sky. His feet falling out from under him, and hands occupied with the folds of the plain cloak, Zevran simply fell back into the wet soil.

Giving a wide sort of smirk, he folded his hands behind his head, fingers locking together with a smug expression watching the woman on top of him. "Always wondered who'd be on top." Zevran purred with a spreading grin. Laeti's body shifted with surprised breath and with an audible gasp she scrambled off of him as quickly as possible. Her cloak, hilariously, was just beneath Zevran (Now how THAT happened? He wondered innocently) and in effect she merely fell upon him again.

"I- Oh! Just get up! I'm stuck." She climbed off of him as much as she could, both hands resting on either side of his shoulders. Red strands trickling out from behind her pointed ears that hung low, the hood loose upon her back. Reaching up a hand, his tanned fingertips grazed her skin, brushing the silken strands behind her low hanging ears. Distractedly, his fingertips traced the outline of her elven ear, inciting a strong reaction. Blinking, her breath jumped in her throat and out of surprise she ducked her head lower to have his fingertips fall off of her sensitive ears.

Inadvertently bringing their features closer together. Zevran leaned upwards, propping himself up on his elbow, the other hand guiding her lips to his. Her breath slowing as she leaned in, desiring the kiss with every fibre in her body.

Just as she felt skin against her lips, Naei strode over, picking up Laeti by the back of the cloak that Zevran's sitting up had released the corner of, lifting her off the man and setting her on the wet dirt on beside her. Giving Laeti an ill tempered look, a snap slipped from her lips before Naei could stop herself.

"Harellan!" The word fell from her lips without a thought. Laeti flinched as if she'd been struck, her heart in her eyes as she turned her features from Naei. Traitor to one's kin. How could she forget, just for the slightest moment that lust, desire, attraction, it all wasn't to be hers? That without her Vallaslin she was no adult, and children didn't feel that. Even if she had her Vallaslin, lust, desire, attraction were all for one person only.

The one love she would have in her lifetime.

Zevran leapt up, narrowing his eyes. "What did you call her?" He demanded. Laeti waved a hand. "Zevran, drop it." Zevran turned his gaze to Laeti, brow furrowed and eyes flashing. "What does-"

Turning, Laeti's eyes were empty of hurt, empty of sorrow, empty. She placed the same emotions she always did in the empty spaces, distant thought, innocence and understanding.

"Leave it alone, Zevran." She turned, and walked on, taking the lead once more. Zevran turned his head to Naei, who seemed surprised at what had come from her mouth in her moment of shock, unspoken hatred in his gaze. With an effort, he turned, and found himself returning to Laeti's side.

"They say the veil is thin here, and all manner of strange things may be seen." Leliana remarked, tilting her head back to the rustling green branches above the group. The woman having completely missed the spoken words in hissed tones. Naei was silent for a moment, as was Laeti before the pair both turned to Leliana at the same time, doubt written on their features.

"Like a wild rabbit." Naei said doubtfully, shame touching her eyes.

"We Dalish don't appreciate being called 'strange things' " Laeti answered shortly, who, having lived with the Dalish her whole life, a good portion of such residing in the forest they now strode through. Leliana blinked, "Oh, I didn't mean..! You two have really never seen anything strange in these forests?" Naei and Laeti gave a short shake of the head. Zevran who stood in step beside Laeti was nearly taken aback with her sudden change.

How much of the woman he couldn't get out of his mind was an act?

Just what lied underneath?

"I've heard that many enter this forest and are never seen again. Let's hope we don't join them." Wynne turned her attention down the path the two other elves seemed to navigate without sight. Laeti's hands fidgetted at her side, seeking refuge in the thick folds of her green cloak.

Zevran took her reaction in a moment.

Guilt. He knew it when he saw it. Perhaps such was true, and Laeti was guilty for a part she played in it's occurrence. Or rather, far more likely for such a little dalish, her lack of part in it's occurrence. Then again, she seemed just the type to bear the burdensome touch of guilt upon her shoulders for even hearing that was the word spread of the Brecilian Forest.

Naei kept silent as well, supposing that the Laeti beside her was far a changed woman then the one who'd left. Her past.. Perhaps she wasn't so confident in her choices any longer.

Laeti, in truth, had never been confident in her choices at the time, had always felt the touch of guilt directly after her actions. She simply told herself it was right, it was just to protect those she loved, to protect the innocent that inhabitated her clan. To protect all that mattered.

And, if guilt was the price to pay, who was she to decline?

"Let's try not to get lost here. Places like this can get you turned around." Alistair, who at the time was very interestedly staring at a tree with curling vines actively crawling up the bark inputted absently. Both Dalish simply turned slowly to the Templar, who noticing eyes upon him, glanced up. "Or.. you'd know that, wouldn't you?" Laeti gave a short laugh. "Very well, that vine, by the way, is poisonous."

Alistair casually as he could, removed his fingers from the track to touch said plant, returning it to his side as his eyes watched the vines move and twist farther up the tree in bumbling blindness.

"I am more of a city elf, myself. A forest like this just seems so very.. Filthy." Zevran remarked, turning the world said over and over in his mind. Just what had it meant? And what had it meant to her? Oh, he was getting all caught up over one little dalish.. He'd used to MOCK the assassins in the Crows that fell for someone.

Let alone a previous MARK.

"That is the purpose of a forest, yes." Naei gave a short sort of nod, a likable smile spilling across her features.

"I thought you liked things dirty." Laeti teased with a cunning and devious sort of smile across her lips. Oh, he could remember just barely feeling the sensation of her on top of him, her lips just grazing his..

But, it was not to be. As it seemed that all of Thedas was more then happy to supply any reason to spoil the moment.

"Ah, my dear, I do. Forests, on the other hand, are incredibly different from what I had in mind." Zevran retorted with the usual smirking grin, pushing any and all thoughts of the minx like Dalish out of his mind.

"Zevran? The stories we hear down here, about the Crows.. They're not ALL true, are they? They sound a little far-fetched." Alistair turned his attention back to the members of the party as he fell in step with the cluster of the group, Bodhan's caravan bumbling along behind them, Sandle humming out of the back.

"I cannot say. What have you heard? In Antiva, we hear that Fereldon men cannot sleep without a dog in their bed. Is that true?" Zevran gave a sly sort of smile, lagging behind Laeti several steps, but staying at her side religiously as ever. It seemed that every time he stood more then a pace from her all hell would break loose.

She just couldn't seem to stay out of trouble!

"A dog? No, of course not. We value our dogs, it's part of our history." Alistair blinked in disbelief, not for the first time wondering in his interaction with Zevran if he was having him on. Again.

"Oh." Zevran muttered disappointedly, well then, what explained the SMELL that seemed to follow every Fereldon he'd met? Not that he'd met many before the quest they found themselves on. "Perhaps it was simply a reference to your Fereldon women, then?" Zevran quipped, luring Alistair to take the bait.

Giving a short and likable laugh, Alistair beamed, indulging him. "Well, now that you mention it.."

All of the females in the party, of Fereldon make or not turned to note the two men with heavy glares of hostility. Naei, the short haired Dalish warrior raised a slow eyebrow, slowly turning her head in unspoken anger. Laeti cocked her head in challenge at the words, her red strands of long hair slipping out of the pocket the hood on her back created.

Leliana, the bard, while not being of Fereldon still found the comment offensive enough to invoke a reaction in the ex, but still masterful rogue. Wynne rested her hands on her hips, eyes flashing with annoyance and aged experience. Morrigan crossed her arms over her chest, magic fizzling into existance just beyond her fingertips, snapping with power.

"I see where this is going.. Downhill. And very quickly too." Zevran tried a charming grin at the several very annoyed women.

**Author's Note-**

**Naei isn't a bad person, I swear, this is just a hard chapter for her! She basically turns around and sees her best friend forsaking the ways of the Dalish as well as doing a 360 personality spin. I had some of you though, thinking that Zev/Lae were gonna kiss. Chapter 17, and no serious kiss. The tension shall be UNBEARABLE! For the most part, I was really surprised at the banter the characters make when you enter the forest, ESPECIALLY if you think about a Dalish lead'n them!**


	18. Whatever It Takes

**Author's Note - This entire story was all started by one very amazing writer, AnneRene, who co wrote with me for MONTHS as we went from the start of Origins to the end. You're an epic writer, amazing person, and if you hadn't put up with me when Laeti was under developed and cranky I wouldn't be having half as much fun as I am right now. And, without a doubt, there'd be no That Damn Antivan. Thanks so much for your help on all the challenging Zevran bits in this story, and dialogue!**

**Spada2014, you're reviews make my day, and you kick my muse back into shape when they want to be fat and lazy. Pretty sure most of this story would still be in my head if it weren't for you! Stay spicy and yum, and romance Zevran!**

"I've been thinking about those ink drawings," Alistair mused aloud, turning to Zevran in the fading light that shifted as the opening in the leaves moved with the bitter wind. "What did you call them?" Alistair scoured his memory a moment recalling the last time the two had touched upon the topic. "Tattoos? Are you... Still willing to do one?" Alistair inclined his head slightly to the tanned Antivan elf beside the red headed Dalish elf.

The walk to the Dalish camp was taking some time, the sun had already started to set behind their shoulders, the last rays peeking through the moving gaps of the gently stirring branches of the stretched tree tops. It wasn't that the pair of the Dalish had lead the group down an incorrect path (not that they would have known, really) but rather the hidden placement of the camp was deep enough to keep wanders from crossing into it.

Zevran strode at Laeti's side, for what seemed like the first time since they'd gotten a taste of what it was like under each other's skin, he seemed content to leave her be for the time.

Fortunatly for her, her will was somewhat lacking around him.

But, even now, when she should be pleased and thanking her fortune.. She craved him to try once again.

No doubt his absences was an attribute to the fact of the mystery word that he seemed to apply himself to solving just what Naei had let slip. Though, it was a point of interest to note that he seemed to have dropped the entire subject, no doubt bidding his time. If it had been otherwise, it would have been possible to deter such attempts, but due to his patience and cunning, it would be far from possible in the slightest.

No doubt his original intent.

Laeti closed her eyes a moment, fingertips gently touching her closed sore eyes in frustration. He'd set his mind to more then one thing in the future, and it seemed that once such was set, it did not turn out well for the secret keeper who wished the information quietened.

What if.. He found out her past? Would he still stay by her side?

No. She dropped her hand, turning her gaze to those she travelled with with a glancing glimpse. No, no one would.

And she wouldn't blame them for it.

"Oh ho!" Zevran gave a wickedly charming grin to Alistair, bored enough with the path ahead of a bored and predictable shade to indulge the previously explored topic. Besides that, Zevran's favorite past time, antagonising Laeti, was to be put on a hold until Naei was out of their party, leaving the time to trickle past as his thoughts turned steadily. "You've decided to take the plunge, have you? What is a little pain, am I right?" Zevran's eyes flashed with malicious mischief, glinting softly in the waning light of the time.

"I'm not worried about that." Alistair waved a hand, he'd gone into battle time and time again in the loyal devotion that was himself on the route their current quest lead them. The templar had never been one to back away from a fight for a fear of a bit of pain or defeat, rather, taking it as a challenge. Besides, have a permanent tattoo could be worth it if it were of the right design, surely? "I think they look interesting, though I'd want mine.. smaller. When can you do it?"

"Not so fast, my friend. There is an entire ritual to how this is done, do you not know? First I need to bathe you in a mixture of olives and rosewater." Zevran's expression was remarkably deadpan for the phrase that sounded from his quirked lips.

"You need to.. bathe me? That seem.. odd." Alistair narrowed his eyes in suspicion slowly, suspecting Zevran of having him on AGAIN. Really, someone would think that the past time would be less then entertaining the more that the tanned elf did it..

Zevran, naturally, if he wasn't going to antagonize Laeti, was going to have to pick on SOMEONE to pass the time of their travels! This Dalish camp seemed well enough hidden, and he suspected the last of the light would have long been spent before they even neared it's outskirts. "No, no, no, not at all. It needs to be worked into your skin, preparing it to receive the ink. The massage is quite pleasurable, do not worry. You are in good hands." Zevran's features flashed with devious humor.

"The.. Massage? You're.. Having me on, aren't you?" Alistair blinked, giving Zevran slow look, directing his attention from the shimmering flower petals by the unseen path that slowly twisted together as the last glimpses of the warm golden rays left their open petals, turning into itself in near silent rustling.

"I might be. I might not be." Zevran quipped with an expressive raise of his shoulders in a smirky challenge. "Shall I describe the rest of the ritual to you?" He shot a wicked sort of grin to the ex templar striding just a few paces from him. Laeti drawing her hood over her features slowly for whatever reason that she so often did it.

Strange.

"Hmm.. No, no, on second thought, I'll just pass." Alistair was a deep shade of red by the time Zevran had his fun, and very much regretted (as usual) any interaction he provoked from that damn antivan.

Zevran threw his head back with a heated laugh, "Excellent choice!"

"Mm, anyone else seriously contemplating a new tattoo or two? No?" Naei purred lusciously from the front of the group. "Naei!" Laeti exclaimed with an eye roll, "He'll take you seriously!" She continued in a warning tone.

Turning her head back slightly, the black haired woman gave Zevran a lustful glance. "I know."

Laeti's hands clentched tightly into fists, blood dribbling up from the crescent marks that dug into her flesh painfully. With a heavy thought, she relaxed her fingertips, grateful that her reaction had occurred beneath the safety of the cloak.

Zevran raised an eyebrow with a slow and quickly spreading smirky sort of grin to Naei, Laeti grimacing beneath the shelter of the cloak's hood, oh, she knew how he'd respond to that. When had it mattered to her?

_Idiot_. She thought to herself maliciously. _You think he cares for you? You think you're anything special? Please, he sees women far more beautiful then you a hundred times a day. You thought you were special? Ridiculous childishness, a game he'd played on your mind, nothing more._

_You think you're worth more then a passing thought?_

"Well then, perhaps-" A grunt rang through the group as a heavy shakage of branches cascaded around the travellers. Laeti, as many of the others spun around in a flurry of alarm and movement, eager to be freed from her cruel thoughts. In truth, one's mind was one's worst enemy when it struck it. Knowing just where one's weaknesses laid, just where a snarky word should be placed to bring another to their knees in unspoken misery. A rope around Bodhan's ankle suspended him from a bouncing and low hanging branch, his beard covering his sputtering features and bouncing as the tree branch did..

Zevran narrowed his eyes, pointed ears adjusting slightly to the pressage of weight to the damp soil. Raising his hands, his fingers wound around the hilts of his dual weapons upon his back, drawing them with a flash as his eyes scanned the area a moment. Many of the group that didn't notice the soft footstep, as that was what it had been, took notice of Zevran's action, and knowing for absolute certain that the assassin, being one to have ambushed the group in the past, held the proper skills to properly sense an ambush in the making, even if their own senses failed them.

A figure stepped soundlessly from behind the protective bark of a stretched tree, the shadows of the waning light playing upon his features in a dark light. His hair was layered in length to reach his pointed ears, proudly framing his heritage. Red and black hued tattooes wound themselves in a complicated design of a tree across his features boldly. His armor was of Dalish make, as were his heavy boots that settled into the soil in such a sense that little noise was created.

An arrow notched just under his experianced fingertips, the bow in his hands was pulled back tightly, having taken aim for the heart of Zevran. Eyes hostile, he summed up the challenge before him, the dwarf in the background still swinging from one of his animal traps, speaking with the other dwarf below him on the subject of how to release the mechanism.

Strangely enough, all the second one would respond with was the world 'Enchantment' in a questioning tone.

The one in the green cloak he didn't recognise flashed with anger and protectivness, striding forwards without a hesitation, lunging forwards with an experianced step that because of her placement, beat the rest of the group, most specifically the Flat Ear in his sight. Wickedly she twisted her hand on the bow, raising it to the sky as he loosed the arrow, missing the man completely. Dropping his hand to his side in stunning quickness his finger tips just barely grazed the hilt of a blade. Finger nails dug into his flesh, twisting his wrist fiercly and with a forward sort of shove, his back was pressed against the bark of a moist tree. Her hood still covering her features, a single strand of long red hair found its way out of the coverage.

The man slammed his head into hers, and she gave a blink, shaking her head slightly to righten her vision a moment, then, upon an annoyed glance, returned the favor.

Naturally, doing it much harder.

The man dropped out of her hold, sliding down the tree with a groan, dazed to a considerable degree and head pounding. World hazy, he blinked, looking up to the woman, the angle allowing him a glance up the hood. The majority of the group had no time to respond to her sudden attack, and from the look of it, the blonde one was mightily annoyed at Laeti, though his glare was lost to her ignorant back.

She wasn't the only one to be protective of the other it seemed.

"Laeti? Little Laeti?" He managed aloud with a heavy effort, words slurring ever so slightly in his daze. Laeti raised a hand to beneath her hood, dropping a knife she'd lifted from his person without his notice. Clearly, she'd intended to do as much damage as was needed.

As ever.

"Not so little anymore, I should think." Laeti closed her eyes, touching her cold fingertips to her sore temples that pulsed with resounding pain. Naei pushed forwards to manage the situation, offering a hand to the man, smiling fondly. "Ever the impulsive man, eh Big Feet?"

Taking her hand, the man stood, stumbling to find his balance once he did so. Shaking his head with a sore groan, Tahras slipped a glance to Naei, familiarity touching his glazed features.

"My name's Tahras. Now will the two of you tell me why exactly, the pair of you are leading a group of Shemlen, Flat Ears, Durgen'len and Qunari to our clan?" Tahras lifted the knife from the ground, clumps of wet dirt lingering on it's hilt a moment before dropping to the ground. Retrieving his bow from a reluctantly moving Laeti after a moment, he attached it to his back, watching Zevran with a suspicious glance. Her protectiveness for the man was not unnoticed to the observant Dalish. Or rather, it was not unnoticed by any of the group in the slightest, the stirrings of trouble touching the features of many of the features that surrounded him.

"And just what is it my dear childhood friend has gotten herself into in my absence?"


	19. The Unwelcome Return

**Author's Note - AnneRene is once again the one who planted the seeds for this story, and helps me with all the hard Zevran personality and dialogue bits. Immensly helpful, can't thank you enough!**

**Spada 2014, you're a badass who writes a Zevran fiction just like me, how could we NOT get along? Your reviews are exceptional, and your ability to kick my muse into shape is astonishing!**

The tension in the air was pliable, if one lifted their hand, they could feel the density in the atmosphere with ease. Especially if one stood on the side of the path that included Laeti, Zevran, Naei and Tahras. Naei strode at Laeti's left side, her short black hair twisting in the cold chill of the darkened wind. She, unlike what others expected, merely desired the presence of an old friend at her side, and cared little for whether or not Zevran would attempt to seduce her friend.

.. Perhaps she minded a bit on that. Laeti was the type of woman to believe in love, even when it was simply not to be found. Love was.. A lie. Laeti believed in fairy tales, she always had, though she'd never admit it at the time that Naei knew her previously. She believed in happily ever afters.

Naei didn't.

She saw things how they were, love faded, time moved on. One was stronger alone.

Tahras, alternatively, upon merely glimpsing upon the unspoken (often) connection between Laeti and Zevran felt his old stirrings of love's touch enter his thoughts. Protective of his old friend, he pressed for more and more answers for the world she seemed to have embraced, but as his questions slowed for lack of basis, uncomfortable silence spread.

How he longed to take her hand in his, to have the permission to hold her close upon a single impulse that seemed to burn intensely in his mind ever since she left. He no longer cared about her lack of blood writing, her lack of adult hood. It didn't matter, there'd never been a Dalish before that had denied blood writing before, and she was undeniably a grown woman.

Surely, if he didn't mind, she didn't either? If he'd come to ignore that trivial fact from the clan, surely her view of Thedas around her had changed her opinion as well.

Perhaps she craved him as he'd always desired her?

Laeti was pleased with the silence, her eyes drawn forwards and mind occupied with the trail. She dreaded every foot fall towards her clan, and it was sick of her. Twisted to not be bounding upon her heels in ecstatic excitement to see her family once more. But, it was undeniable, she dreaded it. Zevran seemed to have set his mind to finding out the truth of the situation.

There was no telling what that would bring.

Zevran was getting annoyed with the glaring looks from Tahras whenever their wandering glances met. Tahras seemed unable to take his eyes off Laeti in the slightest, despite the fact she'd long since pulled her hood over her features. No doubt hiding from his searching features.

"Does he always walk so closely to you, Laeti? People may get the wrong impression, you know.." Tahras gave a warning look, turning to the hooded figure, wishing for all the world her hood was upon her back and he could appreciate her beautiful features. It'd been so long since he'd seen her, and unlike in the past, he could no longer ignore the desire to have her by his side.

For always.

"And just what impression would that be, Tahras?" Zevran purred back with a coy sort of grin. "I could stand around and look pretty, if you prefer. Warm her bed?" Zevran shot Tahras a purposeful look, "Fend of unwanted suitors?" He flashed a likable grin, "No?"

"Oh, somebody please kill somebody.." Shale groaned expressively, desiring nothing more then the excitement of battle, the simplicity of blood lust and impulsiveness of defenses.

"Heh.. My coin's on the blonde one.." Oghren hiccuped beside Shale with a drunken grin, before with a heavy sneeze, was lost behind a mist of a lazy floating mixture.

A line of trees opened way to a small clearing, packed with moving bodies and temporary buildings of a magnificently proud make. The elves were no different, striding across the busy clan with purpose and confidence that could only be found in an elf when they lived in the Dalish. An unending passionate desire to be free stood before the many of the group, a picture of unbending and unrelenting willpower and stubborn freedom.

Laeti crouched on the worn soil, the children parting from their mothers to race to her side. With screams of delight they clustered around the beaming woman, tangling their little fingers in her long red hair, giggling madly as they pulled down her green hood and fawned over the design. Bombarded with tiny voices lacing over one another in a mad tangle of questions of strange nature.

The adults ushered over with the appearance of long missed adults of a close family, beaming widely at the returned dalish. One of which, blonde hair braided back in length to fall to her hip, curling at the tip as it moved as she did. Catching the edge of the green hued cloak, her fingers undid the tie at her neck, much to Laeti's surprise. "Woah, Pan! What are you-" She started, the blonde, her name being Pan apparently, interrupted with a wave of her hand and the removal of the cloak with a flourish.

"Oh hush, this needs washing." Pan interrupted, her nimble fingertips adept at the makage of traps and the like was more then suited to make quick work of the claspings. Folding it up, no one could deny mud and filth of almost every sort of makings clung to it's fabric.

The Dalish who seemed so receiving to one of their own, raised their gazes to the others of her group. The children's eyes colored with mistrust and many of the adults didn't bother to hide the same. Bodhan didn't seem to make matters much better, his caravan bumbling along behind him with the pace of the graying mare. Sandal poked his head out of the back of the covered caravan with a slow look around.

"Enchantment?" He muttered with a slow sort of tone.

"The knowledge of the Durgen'len, it would seem." A man of tall stature shot a smirk at the dwarven travelers, his own name being Senrith, a well known hunter of excellent expertise and unwavering ability to strike down any foe that stood in his way. Oghren, from that point was certainly not helping the general opinion of the dwarves to a positive degree, as the man had wandered over in a drunken nature to the Halla pen.

With the loud passage of gas that cracked through the air with the smell of sulfer and rotting eggs, spread with a wide berth in such a short time. Across the camp, where the majority of the dalish stood, they gasped and coughed in unison. At the epicenter, the halla keeper, Saren, turned tail and ran from the creeping green hue that struck through the air. The halla that had so happened to be grazing nearby, gave a wheezing noise before passing out at the ground with a heavy thump. Oghren gave a drunk sort of giggle, stumbling as the world around him shifted. "It's them antler beasts, I swear!" He promised drunkly with another maniac laugh.

It wasn't off to a good start.

While Laeti spoke with those nearby on the subject of finding the keeper, she found a sense of tension around the camp. Stories of were wolves of an angry and furious nature were of a quick occurrence, victims of the attacks just at her back. Feydis, the temporary healer at the time, had bound the injuries in the absence of the keeper, who none of the clan could locate since a week's time earlier.

Things weren't doing well.

Unfortunately, she found that the dalish were remarkably more likely to speak to her on private internal matters. Something that she knew wasn't personal to any that traveled with her, but rather the simple fact of the situation being that there was no Keeper to lead them in the moment of confusion. Grudges of old bubbled up, and dislike shimmered close to the surface, though the members of the clan were all very likable and kind people, they were only to one another.

They'd long since learned that the new was dangerous.

Alistair found many glances pointed his way, but upon his glimpse back upwards, the looks were deterred immediately. Some were more friendly then others, naturally, but few could spare the time in the management of the clan. The human found himself sharpening his blade, a one handed sword, with his Templar designed shield against his leg crookedly.

Naei turned her head to the man sitting beside the flickering fire place, the dark of the night playing on his handsome features in a striking fashion. Her dark eyes seemed unable to stray from his turned back, much to the notice of more then one Dalish. Atdis, the merchant who traded the goods of the clan with nearby human settlements turned from his dealings with Bodhan to the distracted short haired woman.

"Naei, you're staring at the shemlen." Atdis mumbled softly to keep the shemlen from noticing.

"Keeping an eye on him, that's all. Humans have a tendancy to strike trouble." Naei's lips quirked upwards in a mischievous sort of smile. Reluctantly turning her head to the merchant Atdis, his tattooed features of elegant and bold design an ill replacement for Alistair.

"Mmhmm, sure. I thought you didn't believe in love? At least not with men." Atdis gave a confident sort of smirk, it was well known throughout the group that Naei was not interested in men in anything resembling a romantic light. It wasn't encouraged, but nor was it scolded in the clan, not that she would have changed her ways for any words spoken.

Naei gave a slow and wicked sort of grin to Atdis, content to mess with his mind for a moment. "I'm content to corrupt his young mind." She muttered back softly, her tone softly purring beneath the edges.

Atdis blinked in horror, "Naei! That's vile! He's a shemlen!"

"And I'm going to show him how to make one." Naei strode forwards, and to punctuate her words, she turned on her heel towards the baffled merchant, arms spread in challenge and eyes flashing with mischief. She meant none of it, naturally, but still, she spun on her heel, striding towards the man beside the fireside with a sort of fierce, flirtatious swagger that was all her own.

It was just a bit of flirting, that never harmed anyone.

Drawing her sword that was the length of her elvish body, she leaned her attractive body over his ignorant back, her lips by his ear as they pulled back in a devious sort of smirk. The tip of her sword sifting the dirt by his foot as it slid in front of his body. "My sword's bigger." She purred seductively, the corners of her lips turned upwards suggestively.

It was just a bit of fun.

Right?

Laeti traded her old and worn, broken and damaged armor into the leather worker, the man Zevharen, for a newer and lighter model of the Dalish armor. Her boots were now of a grey shade, reaching nearly to her knees in a pointed design, raised heels touched the ground. Skin nearly to her hip was covered in a darker grey hued sock like design, plain compared to the interlacing designs of the boots. Over her hips laid a hefty belt of brown shade hung crookedly, pointed edges lying over the split dual stretchings of fabric that fell in thin measurements to her ankles in an animated fashion.

Dark patterns of tear drop shade hemmed the edges of the two strips, one located in the front of her body, the second in the back. A pendant hung from a leather cord on her side, a pendant swinging with her hips, striking the moon light's rays in a startling design. Across her chest was a chest piece of black base and grey detailings on her chest, leaving her stomach, hips, and the majority of her chest bare.

Strapped in black up the back in golden buckles, the leather wound down her right arm in designed sleeves of complex Dalish patterns to honor the gods they hailed. Spots of skin was shown elegantly down the form, providing the ability for the movement and nimble touch she needed. Her palms and the start of her fingers were covered in black fingerless sort of gloves of cloth make.

Down her left arm was less protection and design, but nonetheless armor and decorations touched upon it. Around her neck was a thick sort of black strap to hold up the front of the chest piece, her back nearly bare except for a few straps to hold the piece together. Hanging from her neck was an intricately twisted pendant of tree design, the branches making a circle around itself as it dangled between her breasts.

Her bow of nearly broken appearance was traded in for a simple, strong wood of dark color with light brown leather cord tied for a hand hold in the indented portion of the bow for her hand. Dangling from the ends were strings of leather cord connecting sparkling gems of exotic shades and beautiful design. The wood was carved up and down with designs honoring the elven gods and blessing the holder to never miss their target.

A quiver laid upon her back, the strap across her chest and the bulk of the shape hanging crookedly on her back. Arrows with crow feathers on the end stuck out of the end in straight moving manners.

Spreading her arms, Laeti's eyes flashed with curiosity, her long red hair braided down her back to twist at her hips in a curling fashion. Many strands of her hair individually braided together in thin and intricate twists to the main braid. "Well? What do you think, Zev?" Laeti inquired.

Zevran was awestruck, and found his eye unable to settle upon one portion of the new armor for longer then half a moment in it's attempt to take in all that the new armor had to offer. Knowing for certain that it's appearance would be rare, as Laeti craved her cloak in times of oftenarity. For once, he had no honeyed words to spin to her.

They all seemed inefficient to describe the beauty before him.

Zevharen gave a short nod, eyes skimming her appearance with a pleased eye. "I think it suits you well, Lethallan. Mobility will be necessary on your travels to come." Zevharen moved the worn armor into an inventory chest by his feet. Choosing to take the time to clean them in the future, planning the repairs already that were necessary for resale.

Zevran let out a near silent breath, pleased enough that it wasn't his opinion she was asking for. Because, in actuality, perhaps it would be wise for her to retrieve her green cloak as quickly as possible.

He doubted it would be possible for him to keep his mind upon any battle at hand.

Laeti glanced down at herself, supposing she looked well enough and seemed content enough to stay with that belief for a time. Finding faults in herself as well as the armor to define why she would receive such a mondain reaction. Regardless, she supposed it would work well enough, her own cloak would hide any faults her body presented, and knew for a certain fact that beauty had no place in a Blight.

Effective armor was far more important.

As she stepped to move past him, Zevran reached a hand out, touching her bare shoulder with his tanned finger tips. "You look like a beautiful goddess of redemption and power. I wouldn't be surprised if more then one of our companions find it hard to battle beside you without staring." Zevran's usual grin replaced itself on his features, slipping out of his fumbling tongue into a well rehearsed line of the past.

"So does Leliana, Morrigan, Wynne and that one woman we met near the Tower. You Antivans have a lot of goddesses." Laeti pointed out, blunt as ever as she searched his face for one thing, one thing to tell her that she was anything more then a game to him.

She didn't see it.

"Ah, well.." Zevran fumbled for words once more, clearing his throat softly as he turned through his usual phrases. Ah, he'd forgotten he'd used that line around her so often.

Braska.


	20. The Insistence Of Insanity's Touch

**Author's Notes - AnneRene, you started all this, so I hope you're happy that I'm up really late every night to finish a new chapter. Really, dropped all my hobbies for this, and it's your fault. You and your sexy Zevran T-T**

**Spada2014, your reviews make my day, and your epicness is contagious, here's hoping our wardens don't meet! I doubt they'd get along!**

Laeti frowned to herself softly, tilting her head back into the quickly darkening night sky. The stars shimmered above the clan's head from the clearing that the land they stood upon provided. Closing her eyes, flashes of violent and dark beings forced themselves into her mind with an usherance of great excitement. Howling and roaring to one another, their rotting skin was peeled back in black husks, giving root to the evil within.

Faces disfigured to a nightmarish degree, the creatures seemingly from hell itself stank of cruelty and twisted agony. Their horrific scream echoed through the air it would seem, but truly, it only rang through her mind. Laeti felt a kinship with them, a drawing to their untold stories, each of them serving one purpose.

The song.

Opening her eyes, Laeti strode through the camp, her new boots with a sure step. "Alistair, you heard it too, didn't you?" Laeti turned her beautiful features to the human that sat beside the flickering fire side, a one handed sword in his palms with Naei leaning over his back, her sword elegantly touching the tip to the soil across the front of the man. Alistair gave a slow nod, perfectly serious. "Wasn't to far away, do you think they're from Ostagar?"

Laeti shook her head, the tail of her braid moving animatedly in a curling fashion, the fine detail put into the braidings lost to the increasing dark. "No, I don't suppose so. I asked the dwarves to put up a border, if there are Darkspawn coming, it isn't from there." Laeti stopped, skin paling considerably.

The Eluvian.

Morrigan had explained that it was a portal, something from the Tevinter Imperium for ease of use. When she'd rested her palm upon that decorative glass, she'd felt the same evil she now recognised as the taint of darkspawn. The same screeching, ugly and disharmonious tune that rang through her ears at the time she had noted upon their march in Orzammar. Beneath the suffocating mountain top, betraying her roots and lost to the stars, they'd found an army of darkspawn in an eerie red flame like light marching in a chasm.

Tamlen had used the Eluvian. The monster that was the Archdemon was surely no fool, and had been the one to rip the man from his Clan into his own waiting den. Laeti clentched her hand into a fist, the old and dried driplets of blood in cresent shapes rebubbled a new.

Because of her.

It knew about the Eluvian.

The Archdemon wasn't satisfied with taking Tamlen from her at her own fault. Now it wanted the clan in it's destructive wake on it's march throughout Fereldon. And, as time wore on, all of Thedas, since the activity of the other wardens in the outside world seemed to be sorely lacking.

Zevran, who having been nearby, inquiring for the word that had unsettled Laeti so, found it hard to communicate with many of the Dalish Sabrae Clan around him, as he'd been told that was it's proper name. Most were simply satisfied to scowl his way, but every so often one would walk forwards and shame him for supposedly turning his back to his heritage.

They didn't seem to be getting the clue there hadn't a choice for himself. The Dalish was certainly a story to be told, a world that he'd craved, but one of fantasy.

It simply hadn't been an option for himself. There was nothing for him to turn his back upon.

Eventually, one, the crafter Nakamorra, indulged him enough to define the term for him, and it's implications. Informing him that the word Naei had called Laeti in a fit of anger that laeti would indulge no mention towards meant _'traitor to one's kin_'. Though, as to just why nearly kissing a man was grounds for being a traitor was still beyond him, the truth being to obvious for Nakamorra to give, assuming it to already have been known.

Zevran sighed frustratedly, seemingly getting no where with these stubborn Dalish. Laeti didn't seem like them. They were closed, where she was open. Rude where she was kind. They took to strangers like oil to water, and it seemed that Laeti's kindness to those she met was merely a trait upon herself.

As was her lack of tattoos upon her features, a trait that made her beauty stand out as the single colored flower in a white bouquet did.

Undeniably, both the Dalish and Laeti were wild, and free.

Ever free.

"Laeti, we must speak when you can." Zevran returned to her side, raising an eyebrow at the smears of blood on her finger nails. On their travels to the clan, they had encountered her old friend, Tahras, who, upon ambushing the group had found himself disarmed and knocked down by Laeti.

Zevran had assumed that like usual, his response had been surprise, or perhaps interest. But no, he was annoyed.

And it wasn't going away as he'd hoped, decidedly, he intended to confront Laeti on the subject. It was foolish of her to charge into close combat when she couldn't even defeat himself in close combat. He being an an ex crow, knew that this was unlikely to ever come to pass, still found power in this line drawn in this imaginary sand.

No doubt Laeti would have quite the fun strolling along it.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, I suppose now would do, wouldn't it?" Laeti gestured onwards to a private portion of the camp's outskirts to the beginning of the forest once more. She despised making others wait to give their opinions, and having someone who desired to state it in private simply made it more dire.

Besides that, electricity bubbled up in her veins in childish excitement, it was silly, really, but it couldn't be helped. She didn't suppose he'd have anything to say but perhaps a new seduction attempt.

He was getting really quite good at those.

Then again, he had always been good at them. Perhaps the change was in herself, perhaps she was merely getting worse in rejecting him.

Zevran gave a distracted sort of nod, for once he didn't seem to have a smart comment upon his lips. Well hell, this can't be good, Laeti thought to herself, striding to the edge of the camp. Could something be wrong with him? Was he leaving the party because she had said something ill mannered and blunt once again?

Had he had his fill of trying to seduce her?

Did he know of her past?

Had he decided she wasn't worth his time?

"You are under the impression you are indestructable, yes?" Zevran scowled, crossing his arms ill temperedly and seemingly showing an all new side. She'd rarely seen this one, and it only seemed to show itself when she'd gone and injured herself or purposefully stepped in danger's path without thinking.

"I- what? No, I don't think that. It was Tahras, he'd never harm me." Laeti argued back, tone certain and streaked with the truth of the matter. She didn't see the harm in her actions, she'd been there, she didn't trust certain others of the group to not harm her old friend dearly.

"And just how was he to recognize you with your hood? You did purchase that outside of the Dalish, yes?" Zevran argued back, his tone sharp with annoyance that the one woman that seemed to be inescapable in his thoughts cared so little for her own safety that HE had to pick up the slack.

She was doing it on purpose, no doubt, to prove some mad point or another.

Laeti blinked, she hadn't thought of that, but she wasn't going to admit such, his ego would hit the open stars above them so hard they'd rattle. He'd be babbling about it for days, and any time she took a step for close combat would bring up the exact same point in malicious intent.

He obviously thought her some ill equipped fool of magnificent magnitude of idiocy.

"I don't see what's so wrong. I was there, I was closest. I knew how to beat him without harming him in the slightest." Laeti snapped back, he thought her some fool that didn't know the pumell of the blade from the blade? He thought her some useless plaything to stand back and let the battle worn companions of hers to fight instead?

"You assume that I do not know how to disarm a man without killing him, yes?" Zevran quipped back, his wit and cleveritivity when used for a darker, more argumentative purpose, didn't hold the same charm.

Throwing her hands up, Laeti growled with frustration. " Tel'abelas! It worked, didn't it? No one was injured, me included." Giving a sarcastic sort of laugh, Laeti threw her head back exaggeratedly, "Because wouldn't Fereldon just fall apart without me? People who can actually manage their own race seems in rare supply here." Laeti growled.

Zevran's frustration was matching her own. Why did he even bother trying to speak with her on such a matter? She wasn't listening to him in the slightest. But, perhaps, she shouldn't, their quest was dangerous, and she their leader. Trying to keep from the touch of danger, out of harm's way and other such things of the same end would come to no end. It seemed she actively sought it out.

His tanned fingers caught both of her wrists as they returned to her side, turning the palms up the smears of blood he'd caught glimpses of since the disappearance of the hood gleamed in the soft light of the moon. "And just what are these, I wonder?" Zevran tightened his hold ever so slightly as she twisted to take her hands back.

"Something completely unrelated." Laeti muttered sourly, reminding herself of their origins, and thus she wasn't lying. She felt immensly ashamed to know for certain that the first of the cuts had occurred when Naei of all people had chosen to flirt with Zevran. Despite the face she knew that Naei wasn't interested in men in the slightest. The second and more recent occurance that still had the blood shimmering in the night in the rawness and fresh hue was due to her part to play in the reaccurance of that damnable mirror.

Oh, if she could turn back time, just for a day..

"Is that so?" Zevran raised a slow eyebrow, this was true, he knew for certain. She hadn't been harmed in the flash of attacks she'd managed Tahras in when he hadn't recognised her and imagined her a threat. No, these were far to fresh.

"Are you going to return them or not?" Laeti growled grumpily in return, dodging the question completely. Ah, tact in conversation was not something the Dalish had, it appeared. Zevran pushed forwards, and Laeti, offset by the sudden weight backed up into the back of the tree behind her, thankfully the pair had strode far enough from the camp that eager or exploring eyes would not find the two in the shadows.

"Perhaps when you see sense." Zevran rolled his eyes, much to her apparent annoyedness. Laeti swallowed once, feeling the weight of his body against hers, dazed in the proximity of the man that seemed to steal all of her thoughts when they so rightfully belonged elsewhere. Zevran faced no resistance as he shifted her wrists into one hand, freeing the other as he pinned her palms outward above her head.

Naturally, if she wasn't going to tell him what happened, he would find it out for himself. Blood shimmered in her palms, and with a gentle hand he wiped it aside, though, interestedly, there seemed to be a younger coat, with a dried and older one just beneath. As if it had happened more then one. Laeti gave him an annoyed face. "Ow. You realise that stings, right?"

"You could have just told me the truth. Still could." Zevran snapped back after a moment, his patience for the situation seemingly returning as his annoyance at her previous antics subsided. He was a fool to think he could change her.

Zevran's eyebrows furrowed, turning his head slightly at her palms of bloodied shade.

They were finger nails in shape.

What could have possibly angered her so much?

Seeing the concern upon his features, Laeti tilted her head back slightly, her red hair tangling and loosing itself from it's long braid in rebelious strands. "You truly worry that much about little old me?" She pressed, knowing he'd conceed.

He always would.

"What gives you the impression I'm worried?" Zevran directed his attention to her features that shone in the gentle moonlight, flashing the usual smirky grin. Laeti inched her foot out, hooking the new boots behind his own and with a sudden jerk, snapped it out from under him as she shoved her body forwards.

Zevran released her hands as he fell backwards, landing with a solid 'umph' in the soil. Groaning with some Antivan curse, he shifted slightly, far to pleased with his placement to change it.

After all, he could look up her skirt.

Laeti looked down, ignorant, crossing her arms as she spoke. "You nearly kissed me." She softly accused, her breath coming in wisps in the bitter cold.

"You nearly kissed me back." Zevran stated seriously in response, his own breath settling into the white smoke that lingered beside his lips a moment before rising.

"I- Hmm." Laeti let out a breath, turning her features back up the stars, recalling the constellations only the Dalish saw. "I won't make that mistake again." She managed aloud, flinching inwardly at the words, when she would have given anything to have her way.

To kiss him, and not worry about just what he was after.

And when he'd lose interest in her.

Zevran gave a theatrical sort of sigh, sitting up as he dusted wet clumps of soil from his shoulders. "We shall see, yes?" Laeti turned her back to him, striding back to camp, forcing herself every step of the way.

There were more important matters to tend to then her own dumbly love struck mind.

Darkspawn matters.

Zevran watched her leave him behind, seemingly all to pleased to have himself out of her sight. Perhaps he was starting to get beneath that thick armor she wrapped around herself, or perhaps not. It seemed that every step he took forwards, she took about three backwards.

Why he craved her company still baffled himself, he'd certainly never felt it before, but it could not be denied any longer.

He would simply do all he could to appease the insistant feeling.

Wherever that lead.

Nawyn, the brown haired little girl with a wrapping of clothing in a mimicry of dalish armor, sat upon a high hanging branch, glancing down at the whole ordiel. She knew many things, she knew why she was in the tree, naturally, she'd always loved the stars the closer she got, the leaves rustling by her ear making her drowsy with their call. Nawyn knew her name, her age, many conselations and a great many other things.

But, the most important thing, she knew that Zevran, the newcomer with the strange accent wasn't Dalish.

What she didn't know, was who to tell.


End file.
